I 



: 






INTRODUCTION. 



To lay off patterns, and to cut, fit and make gar- 
ments of every description, which will conform in 
all cases with the prevailing fashion and fit prop- 
erly, is by no means an undesirable attainment. It 
is one that any lady of limited means will find a 
valuable and economic fraction of her domestic ed- 
ucation ; to the really poor such a knowledge is a 
necessity, and to those of larger means an ability 
to superintend the cutting, fitting and making up 
of their own and their children's clothing, with a 
perfect knowledge that the result will be satis- 
factory, will, we know, in most cases, prove an 
agreeable occupation. 

But little can be said to recommend such knowl- 
edge that will not be apparent to the most careless 
observer ; many in straightened circumstances have 
felt the absolute need of it, and many others have 
but to see the ease with which such knowledge can 
be attained, and with what simplicity the work 
can be done, to reach out a now waiting hand to 
welcome its introduction as a harbinger of good in- 
to their household. 

The system of cutting and fitting which we in- 
troduce herewith, is designed with the intention of 
fully meeting this long felt want, and of doing so 
in the simplest and most perfect possible manner. 
It completely revolutionizes the art of cutting, and 
with it and the books that will be issued to ac- 
company it, any person can readily lay off any 
garment worn by men, women or children, of any 
size, and fully as well fitting and fashionable as 
can be done by either tailor or dressmaker. 

There are already in the market very many sys- 
tems of cutting garments, more or less expensive, 
and all imperfect in many respects, some are 
adapted to only men and boys clothing, some only 
to ladies' dresses, (generally the waist or basque 
only) others only to skirts, and a very few to child- 
rens' clothing ; some combine a system of cutting, 
several garments, but most of all are confined to 



the narrow limit of but one, with no range (or if 
any, a very limited one) of style. None have ever 
before reduced the art of cutting everything worn 
to but one system, and rendered that one so simple 
that a child can understand, and with but few in- 
structions successfully operate it. This we claim 
for our system alone, the one great desideratum to 
which none other has attained, and which renders 
it so entirely beyond all others as to make compar- 
ison out of the question, Our range of garments 
and styles is unlimited ; anything worn can be cut, 
and any fashion ever designed will be within its 
compass. 

It is in itself so entirely complete that even the 
most elaborate trimming can be cut and any style 
of drapery is rendered easy and simple to the un- 
initiated. 

To the expert tailor or dress maker who is now 
working with some dearly purchased and labor- 
ously learned system of cuttiug, we ask you too, 
to Iook carefully into the merits (and demerits if 
you can find any) of our plan ; see how much more 
complete and in every way handy it is than the 
one you are now using ; be candid in making your 
decision, and recollect, if you can do excellent 
work with what you now have with its imper- 
fections, you can do the same work more easily, 
quickly, and possibly more perfectly with a more 
perfect system. To your experience and knowl- 
edge we know that we can add that which will en- 
able you to do your work with better satisfaction 
to yourself than you have hitherto done. 

There are very few into whose hands this, system 
will fall but what know something of cutting and 
fitting ; we shall, however, presume that everyone 
purchasing it is a novice, and make our instruc- 
tions in cutting and fitting, and making up, so 
simple, explicit and thorough, that all will fully 
understand them ; therefore, carefully read the 
general directions on the following pages. 



L 



0-B1STEK-A.L JDIKECTICCbTS. 



We would reccommend in all cases that patterns of paper 
be cut from which to cut the garments; a more experi- 
enced person need not always do this, but it renders mis- 
takes impossible, and a pattern once made when properly 
cut and laid away, will very often be found of use and a 
saying of time. 

For each pattern there is a diagram which is realy but 
a pattern in miniature, and which has but to be enlarged, 
and in a few cases modified, to become a complete pat- 
tern. The principal line is the vertical one, at the right 
■of each diagram; it is the first line drawn on, and from 
it all measurements are taken and laid off ; for this reason 
we call it the "base line," and it will in all cases be 
spoken of by that name. 

The instruments for laying off patterns or garments 
consists of a square, a series of scales, commencing with 
No. 18 and ending with No. 45, fourteen in an, arranged 
with two numbers printed in each rule, and a curved 
drafting tool. The scales correspond with, and the proper 



one to use is selected by the measure in inches of the per- 
son for whom the garment is to be made. The measure 
of the person is taken as directed for the garment being 
cut; for example, you wish to cut a shirt pattern, you 
turn to the directions and read as follows: " Measure 
around the breast, over the vest, drawing the tape line 
moderately tight; select the scale corresponding with the 
measurements and use it in laying off the entire pattern, 
etc.;" that is, if the measure in inches is 37, take scale 
No. 37, or if it should chance to be ['39 inches take scale 
No. 39, or whatever be the measure in inches use the scale 
of the same number; the scale so.selected being used for 
the entire garment. 

Having selected the proper scale for the garment attach 
it to the square by pressing it under the clamps on the 
longer blade, with the end on which th e first space is 
printed even with the angle formed by the intersection of 
the blades. A more perfect understanding of its position 
may be had by reference to accompaning cut No. 1, which 

Top JHeasure Line, 



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Xo. 1. 




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Square moved down to locate points on base line 
beyond length of scale. 



K. 



81 






GENERAL DIRECTIONS. 



shows the square with scale attached. First, in position 
to commence work ; and second, moved down to draw" a 
cross or measure line, which will be explained hereafter. 
To lay off any pattern, first place your paper so it lays 
lengthwise from right to left. Always hold your square 
and use it with the long blade laying from right to left 
and the short one projecting from you, that is with the 
intersection of the two blades of the square at your right 
hand; draw a line on the edge of the paper nearest you, 
as long as will be required for the pattern, taking care to 
draw it straight and continuous, that being the "baseline- " 
then draw another perpendicular to it across the end of 
the paper at your right hand, marked in the cut above 
" top measure line. " Place your square exactly in the 
angle formed, and with the diagram before you, mark 
such points as are located on the base line therein, on the 
base line you have drawn, using the figures on the diagram 
as an index by which to locate them. If any of the num- 
bers be higher than ten (which is the limit of each scale) 
mark ten, move your scale down as is shown by the sec- 
ond position of the square in the cut above and continue 
till all points are located on the base line. 

Take for example a shirt back ; after drawing the base 
line and the one across the end of the paper, lay your 



square as directed and proceed to mark the points as fol- 
lows : First i, next 64, then mark ten (the end of the 
scale) move your square down to this point and mark Hi, 
then 13, then 19t, then the end of the scale again making 
20 ; move the square down again and mark 25|,- again 
mark the end making 30 ; mark another i making 30i 
spaces from the point where the lines above intersect, 
which is the last point on the base line ; it is advisable to 
mark your points to be used in drawing and those where 
the scale ends differently ; for instance, the former with a 
dot, the latter with a small cross ; this will prevent con- 
fusion. 

Next proceed to lay off the perpendiculars from each of 
these points where there is one dotted on the diagram, 
using the short blade of the square for the purpose, and 
keeping the long blade exactly on the base line in all cases. 
Observe 'in doing this that not all the points located on 
the base line have.dotted lines drawn from them, some 
are merely located to cut to ; this is the case in nearly all 
patterns and it is well to avoid drawing lines from such 
points as confusion may result from superfluous lines so 
drawn. Having drawn this last line, change the scale to- 
the short blade of the square as shown in the cut No. 2. 

Top Measure Line,, 



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GENERAL DIRECTIONS. 



and placing the square in its first position locate such 
points as are shown on the top measure line in the dia- 
gram, measuring from the base line. Should any point be 
greater than 10 move the square out from the base line 
ami locate it as shown in the second position, move the 
square down to the second measure line and locate the 
points on it as you did those on the first, and so proceed 
until all points in the diagram are located on the pattern 
you are drawing. Fill in from point to point, drawing 



straight lines with the square, and curves with the curved 
drafting tool provided for that purpose, until the pattern 
is complete. 

The various positions of the curved drafting tool for 
different parts of patterns are shown in the accompany- 
ing drawings, a full study of which will be very useful to 
the beginner as nearly every application of it is there 
shown. 






GENERAL DIRECTIONS. 




These directions apply to all patterns. The manner of 
laying off all is essentially the same, and when any devi- 
ation is necessary it is noted in the directions for the 
pattern where such change is needed. 

Cut your goods exactly the size of the pattern. Make 
no allowance in any garment or pattern for seams, and 
take up only as much seam in making up as directed ; 
recollect a fraction of an inch taken up on each seam in 
any garment will make no small difference in its lit. 

Care must be taken to mark all points correctly ; do not 
be careless in locating points or drawing lines, for the fit 
of the garments depend entirely upon the accuracy with 
which the work is done. Keep your square in its proper 
position and draw all lines on which measurements are 
made exactly perpendicular to the base line. In cutting 
goods with a nap care must be taken to have it run to- 
wards the bottom of the garment. 

The following cut illustrates the manner of taking the 
various measurements that are sometimes needed to veri- 
fy a pattern ; the first cuts here taking the bust measure, 
second the length of the waist, the third the length of the 
sleeve. The position of the tape line and the points from 
which measurements are taken should all be studied care- 
fully. In basque patterns, &c, the scale selected by the 
bust measure regulates the fit of that portion of the gar- 
ment. It is always best to test the pattern before filling 
in the curves and other lines. For instance, you are cut- 
ting a basque pattern you take the measure of the length 




of the waist and measure the base line of the bottom for 
the back between the points representing the back of the- 
neck and waist, see if they are the same as the actual 
measure of the person you' are fitting, if not, raise or 
lower the waist line as the case may require, taking care 
not to change any of the other lines in so doing and 
placing the figures on that line the same distance from 
the base line as shown in the diagram, that is, the line is 
changed but not the position of the points on the line. 
Also test the waist and make the alteration if any, neces- 
sary by enlarging or contracting the under-arm dart. In : 
measuring for the sleeve deduct the width of the back 
and shoulder seams and see if the length to the elbow and 
cuff make up the difference as shown by the tape line ■ 
if not, lower the elbow and cuff lines to lengthen the 
sleeve ; if too long, raise them. In case the waist line in 
the back is raised or lowered it is always necessary to 
make the same chang^in the waist line in all the other 
parts of the garment ; for this* reason always lay off the 
pattern for the back of all garments first. 

The careful attention of the beginner should be given 
to the general directions, and by a strict adherence to 
them a perfect fit of any garment shown to any person 
no matter what their form may be, can invariably be had.' 
It is only necessary to be accurate in your work to be sat- 
isfied with it when finished, Carelessness will in this as. 
with anything else generally result in wasted effort. 





(3) 



(4) 



LADIES' SHORT PRINCESS DRESS. 




Use the bust measure in laying off this 
pattern, selecting the scale and proceeding 
in accordance with the general directions. 
It is in four pieces, as follows: Back and 
side-back in one, front and two sleeve por- 
tions. In cutting the goods, place the pat- 
tern for the back with the back edge of its 
skirt on a lengthwise fold of the goods to 
avoid a center seam. Cut the other sorts 
lengthwise. In making up the garment, 
turn under the front of the right side at the 
point marked H, and that of the left side 
about H space less for hems. Close the 
seams in the back and fasten the extra 
fullness at its termination in a double box- 
plait underneath, with the edges of the 
plaits together. Also fasten the extra 
width at the side-back seam in a backward 
turning plait underneath. Cut a standing 
collar or binding for the neck from a 
straight piecee of the goods and attach it 
to the garment. Sew a pocket to each 
front. Close the seams in the sleeve and 
sew them in with the outside seams of 
each at the back of the arms-eye, and the 
extra width in a forward turning plait un- 
der the arm. Hold it toward you while 
sewing it in. Close the front with button- 
holes and buttons, attaching the buttons 
to the left front. If desired, the hems 
may be fastened permanently together 
from a little below the waist. Bind the 
edges of the pockets and attach a row of 
three buttons to the wrists of the sleeves 
in front of the outside seam. Lace-plait- 
ing, ruffles or flat bands may be used for 
trimming with pleasing results. 

Quantity of material required : 22 inches 
wide, 7i yards ; 36 inches wide, 5i yards ; 
48 inches wide, 31 yards ; No. of buttons, 32. 




LADIES 9 SHOUT PRINCESS DUE SS. --Continued. 



io# 







LADIES 9 POLANAISE. 



This pattern is laid off by the bust 
measure, the scale selected thereby. and 
in accordance with the general direc- 
tions. It is in eight pieces, as follows : 
Back and back-drapery in one, front, 
tmder-arm gore, side-back, collar, front 
drapery and two pieces of the sleeve. 
In cutting the goods lay the. square end 
of the ' pattern for collar on a length- 
wise fold of the goods to avoid a center 
seam. Cut the side-back and under- 
arm gore with the waist line in pattern 
of each, numbered respectively 8i and 
6i, on a cross thread of the goods. Cut 
the front drapery with its longest 
straight edge, the back with either edge 
of its drapery, the front with its front 
edge, the larger sleeve portions, with 
the points of its shortest lengthwise 
curve, and the smaller sleeve portion 
with its upper half, all laid lengthwise 
of the goods. (The side of the back 
drapery -cu tat the base line is the left 
side.) In making up the goods turn 
under the right front as far back as the 
point marked H for a hem, and under- 
face the left front a trifle farther. Close 
the seam of the back, and fasten the 
extra fullness at its termination in a 
double box-plait underneath. In the 
right side edge of the back drapery 
make two upward-turning plaits, as 
shown by extreme ends of lines drawn 
at figures 24£ and 29i on the base line, 
and in the left side make seven plaits 
as shown by two numbers given above 
five others below them. Tack the 
lapped lower edges of the front perma- 
nently. Turn three upward-turning 
plaits in the left end of the front drap- 
ery. Turn two similar plaits in the 
right end, join the top of this drapery 
to the lower edges of the fronts, under- 
arm gores and side-backs with its cen- 
ter at that of the front ; also join its 
plaited ends to the corresponding ends 
of the back drapery. Fasten the extra 
width at each side-back seam in back- 
ward turning plait underneath, sew the 
collar to the neck with its center at the 
center seam in the back, then turn it 
up and fell the lining over the seam. 
Close the seams in the sleeve and attach 
it to the garment with the outside seam 
at the. back of the arms-eye. Hold the 
sleeve towards you while sewing it in, 
and fasten the extra fullness in a for- 
ward-turning plait under the arm. 
Close the front with buttons and but- 
ton-holes. Decorate the loose edges of 
the front drapery with rows of braid, 
fastening one end of each row under the 
loose edge, and terminating the other in 
a loop about four inches from the edge. 
Trim each front with horizontal rows 
of braid, terminating the ends for that 
from center in loops. Trim the wrists 
of the sleeves with upright rows of 
braid, fastening one end of each row 
under lower edge, and terminating the 
other in a loop about four inches above, 
or any preferred decoration may be 
adopted. 



LADIES' POZAJVAISE. -Continued. 




LADIES' CIBCULAB NIGHT DMJESS. 




To lay off this garment, take the bust measure in inches, select the scale the number which cor- 
responds therewith, aud proceed by the general directions. The diagram shows three pieces of the 
pattern — night dress, collar and sleeve. Cut the goods with the shortest end of the collar pattern 
on a lengthwise fold of the goods; the night dress with the front edge of its pattern, and the sleeve 
with its pattern layed lengthwise of the goods. In making the garment turn under the front edges of 
night dress portion at the point marked iy 2 for the leftside, and about one-quarter space less for the 
right side. Take up all seams evenly. Attach collar with its center at the seam in the back, then 
turn it up, felling the lining over the seam and turning its corners over at the points marked 54> 1 
and 1V4- Close the seams of the sleeves and attach them to garment with the inside seam at the 
front of the arms-eye. Hold the sleeve toward you while sewing it in, and fasten any extra fullness 
in a pleat turning forward under the arm. Close with buttons and button-holes, making the latter 
in the wide hem. Trim with torchon lace, embroidery, braiding, or in any other manner desired. □ 

The garment may be made any length by taking measure with tape line, laying oft pattern|,there- 
by. All seams and hems are allowed for. Quantity of material required: 36 inches wide, 4% yards.. 
No. buttons 19. 



LADIES' UNDER VEST. 




This pattern is layed off by the bust measure and as described in the 
general directions. It is in three pieces, front, back and sleeve. In cut- 
ting the goods place the pattern for the back with its back edge on a 
lengthwise fold of the goods to avoid a center seam; cut the other two 
parts lengthwise of the goods. In making up turn under each fronts at 
the point marked 11 for a hem; close the seams of the sleeves and attach 
them to the body of the garment with their inside seams at the front of 
the arms-eyes; hold the sleeves toward you while sewing them in and 
fasten the extra fullness in a forward turning pleat under the arm, and 
close the front with button-holes and buttons. If the garment is made 
of flannel, cut the neck and lower end of the sleeves in scollops and fin- 
ish them with button-hole stitching, also embroider a dot in the center of 
each scollop. If desired the neck may be cut out and the sleeves cut 
shorter and the edges finished as above described, t ov in any more pleas- 
ing manner. 

Quantity of material required : 27 in. wide, 3} yds ; 36 in. wide, 3 yds. 
No. buttons 17. 




LADIES 9 COAT. 



This pattern is in nine pieces, as follows: Front, gore for front, front skirt, 
back, side-back, collar, pocket lap, and two sleeve portions. It is all layed off by 
the bust measure and in accordance with the General Directions. In cutting the 
goods, cut the collar bias, cut the back with the back edge of its skirt, the front 
skirt with its longest straight edge, and all the other pieces with the patterns laid 
lengthwise of the goods. There will also be required three small straps about 
two spaces long and one and one-half spaces broad, with one end pointed by cut- 
ting off the comers. In making up the garment, turn under each front skirt at 
the point marked 1* for a hem. Take up the darts in the front and close other 
seams, leaving that in the center of the back till the last, in closing that com- 
mence at the top and close it to the extra fullness. Turn under all the extra 
width and one-fourth space more on the left side for a hem ; lay the extra width 
of the right side under the hems thus formed and tack its top. Arrange a pocket 
lap on each front skirt. Under-face the front edges of the gores for the front. 
Join the top of a front skirt to the lower edge of the front, gore and side-back at 
each side with the front edge of the skirt as hemmed even with the faced edge of 
the gore and fasten the extra width at each side-back seam in a forward turning 
pleat underneath. Make a button-hole in the pointed end of each strap and sew 
the square end of the straps underneath to the hem of the left back, at equal 
distances apart. Sew corresponding buttons to the extra width of the right back and fasten these extra widths together 
with the straps and buttons. Join the wide ends of the collar, attach it to the neck and roll it and the fronts over in their 
proper positions. Close the seams of the sleeves and sew it in with the outside seam at the back of the arms-eye. Hold 
the sleeve toward you while you sew in and fasten its extra fullness in a pleat turning forward under the arm. Close the 
fronts in double-breasted style with buttons and button-holes, making an extra button-hole in each lappel and attaching a 
corresponding button to each front. Face the collar and lappels. Finish the loose edges of the pocket-laps and outline a 
round cuff on the sleeve with two rows of machine-stitching. Also machine-stitch the front edge of each side-back pleat to 
position. Place a button at the top of each side-back pleat and two on the upper side of the wrist of the sleeve in front of 
the outside seam. Any desired decoration may be adopted. All seams and hems are allowed for. 

Quantity of material reqired : 22 inches wide, 6f yds; 48 inches wide, 3£ yds; 54 inches wide, 3i yds; No. buttons, 18. 





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LADIES 9 COAT.-Continued. 



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30| 
32^ 



LADIES 9 CUT-AWAY COAT. 




This pattern is layed off by the bust measure, and is in 
eight pieces — front, back, side-back, collar, two pocket 
laps and two sleeve portions. ISo special directions are 
needed for cutting it. All necessary instructions will be 
found in the general directions. It will be well to verify 
the length of the waist by the tape line and adjust accu- 
rately to the person for whom it is made, though change 
will seldom be found necessary. Cut the side-back with 
its waist line on a cross thread of the goods; cut the col- 
lar bias; cut the back with the back edge of its skirt and 
the other parts with the portions layed lengthwise of the 
goods; take up the darts exactly as located; close the 
seams of the two back pieces and that of their extra width 
turning the latter to the left in a pleat underneath ; also 
fasten the extra width at the side back seams in a for- 
ward turning pleat underneath; join the widest ends of 
the collar and sew it to the neck, according to the notches 



and roll it and the front over at the line of stars in the 
pattern. 

Cut the upper pocket in the left front only, and attach 
the small pocket lap ; the larger lap is for the lower 
pocket, which may not be cut or inserted, unless so de- 
sired. Make up and attach the sleeve the same as direct- 
ed in ladies' basque. If the garment is made of chevoit, 
face the collar and lappel with the material, contuining 
the facing down the front edges of the front underneath ; 
finish with machine stitching; out-line a cuff with two 
rows of stitching above the buttons on the upper side in 
front of the under seam: place two buttons near the top 
of each side-back extra width; if preferred the edges may 
be bound, piped or under-faced. One-quarter inch is al- 
lowed for seams. 

Quantity of material, 22 inches wide, 31 yards; 48 inch, 
If yards; 54 inch, H yards. No. buttons 14. 




LADIES' CUT-AWAY CO AT.- Continued. 



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LADID& BASQUE. 

JUL 




This garment is layed off by the bust measure, 
and in accordance with the general directions. The 
pattern is in six pieces, as follows: front, back, 
side-back, under-arm gore, collar and sleeve portion. 
Cut the collar with either end on a lengthwise fold 
of the goods to avoid a center seam. Cut the back, 
side-back and under-arm gore with the waist line 
on a crosswise thread of the goods. Cut the other 
parts lengthwise. After closing the seam in the 
back as far down as the extra width, arrange that 
of the right half over that of the left, tacking the 
top invisibly to its proper position. Close the seams 
of the sleeve, place the inside seam at the front of 
the armseye, holding the sleeve toward you while 
sewing it in and fasten the extra fullness in a pleat 
turning forward under the arm. The edges may be 
bound, under faced or finished in any preferred 
manner. Allowance is made for seams and hems. 

Quantity of material 22 inches wide, 3| yds. 
" 48 " II yds. 






16^ 






-~ J.21K 



LADIES' SPENCER WAIST. 




for ladies outer 
Quantity 



This garment is laved off by the bust measure, and in accordance with the general direct- 
ions. It is cut in six pieces— front, back, collar, belt and two sleeve portions. But five pieces 
oniy are drawn; the belt which is but a straight piece of the goods of sufficient length and 2| 
spaces wide, being left out. Cut the back with its back edge and the collar with the end layed 
off by upper measure line, lengthwise of the goods. Gather the back and each front accross 
the lower edge, the back between notches located by points marked 3* on its lowermost line, 
the front between points located at 3 and 7-A. on its lowermost line, and also gather both again 
2| spaces above the lower edge and immediately above the other gathers. Close the seams and 
attach the belt. Close the sleeve portion and turn up lower ends for cuffs. Close the front 
with buton-holes and buttons. If the shape of the sleeve pattern is not that desired, any other 

garments may be selected in its place. 

of material: 22 inches wide, 2i yards; 36 inches wide, If yards; 18 inches wide, H yards. 



1J 



— j. 



-.3 





LADIES 9 WBAPPEB. 




This garment is layed off by the bust measure and in accordance with the general direc- 
tions. It is in seven pieces as follows: front, back, front yoke, back yoke, collar, pocket and 
fly; the latter being used for buttons. The sleeves may be cut from those with any other pat- 
tern for ladies' garments. The figures as located on the diagrams, when not to lay off gar- 
ments by show where pletes are to be layed. Cut the front with its front edge, the back with 
its back edge, the back yoke and fly with the longest straight edge of their respective patterns 
on a lengthwise fold of the goods, by so doing a center seam will be avoided. Cut the collar 
bias. Turn under each front yoke at the points marked 1| for hem, make three box pletes in 
both the back and front as shown by the cut of upper ends, and crease them as indicated by 
the figures in diagrams. Attach the collar and roll it over as shown by curved dotted line. 
Attach the pocket as shown in diagram, turning the point downward for a lap. Close with 
buttons sewed onto the fly, which is to be attached to the undermost box pleat for that pur- 
pose. Trim with bows of ribbon at the throat, lower closing of yoke, at the top of slash in 
the sleeves and at the point of each pocket lap, or otherwise if desirable. All seams are al- 
lowed for. 

Quantity of material — 22 inches wide, 94 yards ; 36 inches wide, b\ yards ; 40 inches wide, 
4 yards. 



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LADIES WRAPPER.-Continued. 



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LADIES 9 POLANATSE 




This garment is laved out by the bust measure 
and in accordance with the general directions. 
It is in five pieces, as follows; back and side- 
back in one.front, collar and two sleeve portions. 
Cut the back with the back edge of its skirt and 
the collar with either end on a lengthwise fold 
of the goods, to avoid a center seam, cut all 
other parts lengthwise. Turn under the front 
edge of each front skirt to the point marked If 
and that of the body portion of the right front 
to the point marked 1* for hems. In the back 
edge of each front make four upward turning 
pleats, the lower one to be at the measure line 
located by 29* and the others between that line 
and the one next above, make four correspond- 
ing pleats in each back portion where it joins to 
the front. Close the seam in the back and fasten 
the extra fullness at its termination in a box 
pleat underneath, also fasten the extra width at 
each side-back seam in a backward turning pleat 
underneath. Underface the front edge of the 
body portion of the left front, ^iake a row of 
shirring along the center front seam and arrange 
a stay under it. The garment may be trimmed 
to suit the fancy of the maker. 

Quantity of material— 22 inches wide, 11 yards; 
48 inches wide. 3f yards. 



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LADIES 9 POLANAISE.-Contin ued. 




GIRL'S COSTUME. 



This garment is layed off by the bust measure, and in accordance with the general directions. ,It is in 
eight pieces, as follows: front, back, backskirt, collar, two ornamental pieces, and the two parts of the 
eleeve. Cut the backskirt with the edge of the pattern, located by its base line, and the collar wirh the line 
running from 2^ to i% on a lengthwise fold of the goods, to avoid center seams. Cut the ornamental por- 
tions with their cross-lines of measurement, and the other portions with the pattern layed lengthwise of the 
goods. Turn under the right front to the point marked i 1 ^ for a hem, and underface the left front a trifle 
further. In the top of the backskirt make three pleats on each side, all turning toward the center ; attach 
the largest ornamental portion to the front, with the corner marked 4 on the base line, at the point marked 
6V2 on the front and its upper edge, when in that position joined to the front at 7% place, the narrowest end 
of the second ornamental portion under the back end of the other, and joiu it to the front as shown by fig- 
ures \b l / t and 17 in diagram. Attach the collar by means of a bias strip of the goods, placing its center at 
center seam in the back. Prepared trimming may be used. All seams and hems allowed. 

Quantity of material — 22 inches wide,3J6 yards; 3*) inches wide, V-,i yards; 43 inches wide, \y 3 yards. 



m. 



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CHILD'S BLOUSE COSTUME. 



This garment is laved oft' by the bust meas- 
ure and in accordance with the general direc- 
tions. It is cut in nine pieces — front, back, 
and two sleeve portions for the under part, 
and the front, back, button stand and two 
stays for the blouse. But the button stand, 
which is 3i4 spaces wide and 1894 spaces long 
and the two stays, which are each \% spaces 
wide and 12 spaces long, being nearly straight 
strips of the goods, are left out. of the en- 
gravings. Cut the blouse back with its back 
edge, the blouse front and front part of under 
garment -with the front edge of each layed on a lengthwise fold of the goods. 
Slash the blouse back down within two spaces of the points where it is to be 
gathered. Cut the back of under portion with its back edge layed lengthwise 
of the goods. Turu under Ihe right back of the undergarment at the figure 2 
in the top and bottom for a hem, andunderface the left back as far forward 
as the figure 2%. Baste the garmeut, under portion and blouse respectively. 




Shir the front and back of the blonse at the lines 'shown by"figures 6, 25 and 
26M on the base line of front, and figures 6, 25 and 26 on the base line of back 
portions, making a similar shirring midway between each top and the first 
row below, and also one midwav between the other rows. Sew one edge of 
the bntton stand to the left edge of the opening in the blouse back, and fell 
the opposite edge-over the seam in the under edge. Underface the right 
edge of opening, and arrange the button stand under it. Arrange one stay 
under the lower cluster of shirring in front, a»d the under stay under the 
lower cluster of shirring in the back. Draw the shirring to fit thesestays 
and tack them to position. Fit by drawing the shirring at the neck as 
eloselv as necessary. After fitting and arranging all parts evenly, tack the 
blouse through the lower shirring to the under portion of the garment. Tie a 
ribbon around eaeh shoulder seam of the blouse. Tack the pleated end of a 
rtbbon. Tie to the front on each end of the lower shirring, and arrange the 
ties in a bow over the back. Trim neck of .garment with embroidery or any 
other preferred decoration. 

Material 22 inches wide, 2i£ yards ; 36 inches wide, l?i yards ; 48 inches 
wide, \\ yards. Lining, 36 inches wide, li yards. 




Ladies' Plain Skirls. 



This pattern is in three parts— the 
front, back and side— and is layed off 
with the scale, the number of which 
corresponds with the waist measure in 
inches. All necessary instructions for 
cutting the pattern will be found under 
the head of general directions. 

The back widths are perfectly straight 
and their length can be regulated with 
the tape line. Cut the front gore and 
back breadth with the longest straight 
edge of each layed on a lengthwise fold 
of the goods to avoid center seams; cut 
the side gore with the straight edge 
layed lengthwise of the goods; take up 
a pleat in the center of the top of both 
the front and side pieces equal to about 
one-third the width of each at its nar- 
rowest point, fasten the top of each 
pleat only; join the parts properly and 
gather the back breadth at the top to 
fit the belt,which is simply a plain strip 
of length sufficient to fasten around the 
waist and width to suit. 




MISSES' COSTUME. 



BASQUE. 

This pattern is laid off by the bust measure and in ac- 
cordance with the general directions. It is in seven pieces- 
back and side back in one front, under arm gore, cape, col- 
lar, and two sleeve portions. Cut the back with the back 
edge of the skirt, the collar with its shortest edge, and the 
cape with the end nearest the darts, layed on a lengthwise 
fold of the goods to avoid a center seam. Cut the under arm 
gore with its waist line layed on a cross thread of the goods. 
Cut all other parts lengthwise. Take up the darts exactly 
as located. Close the back seam and fasten the extra widths 
in a box-plait underneath. Also fasten the extra width in 
the side back seams in a backward turning plait underneath. 
If any alteration is necessary in the cape make it in the 
darts. Sew the collar to the neck with its center at the cen- 
ter seam in the back, and turn it up, felling its lining over 
the seam. Underface the neck edge of the cape and fasten 
it above the neck with ribbon ties. On the upper side of the 
sleeve place five buttons in front of the outside seam, also 
place a button at the top of each side back extra width. 
The garment may be finished either with stitching or the 
edges may be bound, piped or underfaced. After putting 
the rest of the garment together and last before finishing, 
put in the sleeve with its front seam about one inch in front 



of the under arm seam in the basque. Hold the sleeve 
toward you while sewing it in and fasten the extra fullness 
in a plait "turning forward under the arm. Regulate its 
length by adding to or taking from the wrists. 
One-fourth inch is allowed for seams. 

Quantity of material 22 inches wide, 4i yards. 
36 " " 21 " 

" 48 '■' " 2i " 

Number of buttons, 28. 



WALKING SKIRT. 



The pattern for this garment consists of five pieces, three 
of which (the underskirt) are to be found under the head of 
" Plain Skirt" elsewhere, the other two make up the drapery 
and consist of a front and back piece. It is all to be layed 
off by the waist measure, the length being regulated with a 
tape line. The parts are notched to prevent mistake in put- 
ting together. Cut the back drapery with its plain straight 
edge on a lengthwise fold of the goods, the front with its 
longest straight edge lengthwise of the goods, cutting two 
pieces off the latter. Also cut a belt lengthwise of the goods 
of length to fit and width to suit the wearer. 






27| 



MISSES 9 COSTTJME.-Continued. 




WALKING SKIRT.— Continued. 

In each front drapery make two pleats turning back- 
ward according to the single notches in the top, and 
three turning upwards according to the single notches in 
the back edge. Also make three downward turning pleats 
in each side edge of the back drapery according to the six 
notches nearest to the lowest one, lap the left front drap- 
ery over the right so as to bring the corresponding double 
notches in their upper edges together. Arrange the drap- 
eries over their respective skirt portions and close the 
side-back seams, leaving the back drapery loose below the 
lowest notch. Gather the back of the back breadth and 
back drapery and sew on the belt. Sew tapes underneath 
to the side-back seams to draw the fullness backward. 
The skirt may be finished or trimmed in any way either 
with stitching, or if prefered. ruffles or pleating may trim 
the skirt, and bands of velvet, satin, silk, or any contrast- 
ing material may border the drapery edges. Allowance 
of one-fourth inch is made for seams. 

[Quantity of material: 22 inches wide, 81 yards; 48 
inches wide. 4i yards. 




21 


.. 




21 


9 . 

-— <>* 




MISSES' COSTUME.-Continued. 



i 14S 




BACK DBAPEBT 



10-a 



10| 



13J 

14 



16| 
174 

20^ 
24 



35 



LADIES' BASQUE. 




This pattern is layed off by the bust measure and in ac- 
cordance with the general directions. It is in six pieces- 
front, back, side-back, collar and two sleeve portions. In 
cutting the material place the narrow end of the collar on a 
crosswise fold of the goods to avoid a center seam. Cut all 
the other parts lengthwise. Any material desired may be 
used, and the garment may be finished to suit the fancy. 

Quantity of material, 48 inches wide, 2| yards; 22 inches 
wide, 4 yards. 






x 



LADIES' BASQUE. -Continued. 




IVA 



WA 



20^ 





S£ 



COLLAR 






GIBLS' GABRIELLE. 




This pattern is layed off by the bust measure and in accordance with the general 
directions. The pattern is in seven pieces — front, back, skirt, pleated collar, strap and 
two sleeve portions. The sash is a straight piece of the goods 40 spaces long and 10 
spaces wide. Cut the skirt of the garment with the shortest straight edge of the corres- 
ponding pattern and the collar with one end layed on a lengthwise fold of the goods. 
Cut the back with its waist-line on a crosswise thread of the goods. Cut the other 
parts lengthwise, cutting four straps and two sash portions, turning under about two 
spaces of the latter for a hem. Take up the darts exactly as located. Lay the skirt in 
three double-box pleats. Locate the straps by placing its straight end on the line shown 
in the pattern therefor, turning the pointed end up and finishing it with a button. Slip 
the sash under and fasten in position with its seam at that in the back. Tie the sash 
in a bow in the center of front. Put in sleeve with the notch in the top at the shoulder 
seam in the body. The collar is fastened in box-pleating at the line shown on pattern. 
Close the front with button holes and buttons. If the garment is made of ladies' cloth 
the sash may be made of surah silk, and the sleeves decorated with a like material. 
Any alteration may be made in length by adding or taking from the bottom. One-fourth 
inch is allowed for seams. Any material may be used. 

Quantity of material: 22 inches wide, o\ yds; 4^ inches wide, 2f yds; quantity silk 
for sash, 20 inchis wide, H yds. 





SLEEVE 




10 




39i 
40 



GIRLS' GABRIELLE.-Continued. 



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SKIRT 




MISSES' CLOAK 




Lay off all parts of this pattern by the bust measure and as directed 
in the general directions. No alteration from the diagram will be found 
neccessary, unless length does not suit, in that case it can^ be regulated 
by the tape line. The pattern is in seven pieces — front, back, collar, 
cape, pocket and two sleeve portions. Cut the back of the garment with 
the back edge of corresponding pattern, layed on a lengthwise fold of the 
goods. Cut the collar bias. Cut the cape with the front edge and the 
other parts with patterns layed lengthwise of the goods. In taking up 
the darts place the marks locating them exactly opposite. The notches 
located will show how the garment goes together. Put the sleeve in so 
that the notch at the top will be exactly at the shoulder seam in the body. 
Turn under one-fourth of an inch on the back edge of each cape portion 
down to point where the line changes its direction, and after placing in 
position stitch firmly to body of garment as shown in engraving. The 
garment may be finished to suit. If made of light material two rows of 
machine stitching on all the edges is preferable. All seams allowed in 
cutting. 

Quantity of material. 27 inches wide, 44 yards; 48 inches wide, 21 yards; 
■54 inches wide, 21 yards. 



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MISSES 9 CLOAK.-Continued. 



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LADIES 9 DBAWEBS. 




This pattern is laid off by the waist measure and in ac- 
cordance with the general directions. It is in two pieces, 
body and band. In cutting the goods lay the pattern care- 
fully lengthwise of the goods, and the band on a straight fold 
of the goods. Close the seam of the leg as shown by notches 
leaving front and back seam of the body open, and in mak- 
ing up neatly face them with the material. The backs of 
the garment over-lap about one inch at the top. Gather the 
top evenly and attach to the band, fastening the front se- 
curely with buttons. One-fourth inch is allowed for seams. 
Quantity of material, 36 inches wide, 2 yards. 





GIRLS' APRON. 




5 2i 



This pattern is laid off by the bust measure and in accord- 
ance with the general directions. This pattern is in five 
pieces— front, back, yoke, pocket and sash. In cutting the 
goods, place the center of the front of pattern on a fold and 
the back of the body and yoke on the edge of the goods. 
Gather across the top of the back and join it to the yoke 
from one end of each portion of the sash and insert it in the 
under arm seam as shown by notches. Turn a lap on the 
pocket and attach it in proper place. Any style of trimming 
may be used. One inch is allowed on shoulder and under 
arm seams ; one-fourth inch on all others. 

Quantity of material. 36 inches wide, 11 yards. 







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LADIES' PLAIN CHEMISE. 

This pattern is laid off by the bust measure and consists of three 
pieces — the front (widest piece) , back and sleeve. Cut the goods with 
the straight edge of both front and back laid on a lengthwise fold, thus 
avoiding seams in the center. Cut the sleeves with the nearest square 
edge on the same kind of a fold and for the same purpose. In making 
up put in the sleeve with its seam at the under arm seam ; hem the bot- 
tom and finish the neck and sleeves with Hamburg edging and insertion, 
or lace, if preferred. Allowance of one-fourth inch is made for seams. 
Quantity of material, 36 inches wide, 2* yards. 

" insertion to trim, 2 yards. 

" edging to trim, 2} yards. 




LADIES 9 CIRCULAR. 




This pattern is laid off by the bust measure and in accordance with 
the general directions, and is in three pieces : wrap, cape-collar and 
standing collar. Cut the standing collar with its widest end laid onf a 
lengthwise fold of the goods. Cut the wrap with] its front edge laid 
lengthwise of the goods. Cut the cape-collar laid crosswise of the goods. 
Cut two pockets to cover places for them as marked on the pattern, and 
attach them on under side of the garment. The garment may be made 
of any material suitable for wraps. If fancy goods it should be finished 
with machine stitching only. If other goods, and it is so desired, it can 
be finished with broad bands of plush or fur and a lining of durola on 
any prepared material, added. Length may be regulated to suit the 
fancy. Allowance of one-quarter inch is made for seams. Close at top 
with a single clasp. 

Quantity of material, 27 inches wide, 5 yards. 

''54 " " 2£ " 




MENS 9 OR BOYS 9 SHIRT. 




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LADIES' CIRCULAR.-Continued. 



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One .Side of Wrap 




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22 

232 



31f 



42 



18a 



BOYS' COSTUME. 



This costume is suitable for a boy from six to ten years 
old. The coat and vest are both laid off by the breast meas- 
ure and in accordance with the general directions. 

The coat is in five pieces— front, back, collar and two sleeve 
portions. Cut the collar bias ; cut all other parts lengthwise. 
Cut the pocket openings as located, cutting the upper one in 
the left front only, the others in each front. The appear- 
ance of the coat may be greatly improved by putting in a 
small change pocket in the right front, only a little above the 
lower pocket and close to the front edge, cutting it with a 
curve to match the others. Insert pockets and bind the edges 
of the pocket openings with braid. Stay each corner of all 
the pockets with a bar truck made in "over and over" stitch. 
Lap the left extra width in the lower part of the back over 



the right. Sew the sleeve into the coat in such a position 
that the front seam is directly over the back corner of the 
upper pocket ; hold the sleeve toward you while putting it in 
and if any fullness gather it slightly under the arm. Join 
the straight ends of the collar and attach it to the neck with 
its seam exactly at the center seam in the back of the coat, 
taking care not to draw the cloth while putting it in, turn it 
and front over where it will most readily lay. Cover the col- 
lar with the material, carrying the latter down the front 
edge of the front in a strip about three inches wide to form a 
facing. Sew buttons to the right front and work button 
holes in the left. The coat may be finished with binding on 
the edges faced, turned slightly under together, and stitched 
at pleasure. Finish the sleeves with buttons. The length 





PANTS 



28| 



10 



91 



5-j 



FLY 




of sleeves may be regulated the same as for a basque. 

Quantity of material 27 inches wide in coat, 2f yards. 

The VEST pattern consists of two pieces front and back. 
Cut the back with its longest edge on a lengthwise fold of 
the goods to avoid a center seam ; it is best made of Silesia. 
Cut the other parts lengthwise ; cut pocket openings as 
located. Insert pockets and sew machine stitched welts to 
the lower edge of the openings, then turn the welts up and 
sew them in place ; under!" ace the front and lower edges with 
the material ; make the straps the desired width by folding a 
piece the proper length in three thicknesses, widest at one 
end so the strap will taper ; turn under the outward edge of 
it and stitch both sides and across the narrow ends. Sew 
the buttons to the right front and work holes in the left. 



Close the straps with abuckel and make it of the same ma- 
terial as back. Finish the vest in the same manner as the 
coat, that is with braid or machine stitching. Only one- 
fourth inch is allowed in both coat and vest for seams. 
Quantity of material, 27 inches wide, I yard. 
Silesia, 36 " " i " 
The PANTS may be made of the same or different ma- 
terial. The pattern is cut by the waist measure and laid off 
in accordance with the general directions. It is in three 
pieces— the front, back and fly. Cut all the parts lengthwise, 
the pockets are to be put into the side seam and made or 
sufficient width to readily admit the hand, the upper end ter- 
minating within about two inches' of the top. Close the 
outside seam first then turn both its edges forward, lap the 



BOYS' COSTUME.-Continued. 



front backward a trifle farther than it is thrown 
by reversing the seam and stitch it down with 
two rows of stitching, which should be continu- 
ed 'over the front of the pocket after it has been 
faced; the extra width on the back forms the 
backfacing,and is to be felled down to the pocket. 
Secure the corners of the pockets in the same 
way as directed for those in the coat. If desired 
the upper part may be faced with some fancy 
material, and the pants lined with silesia. Sew 
on suspender buttons, the latter closed with a 
buckle. The length may be regulated with the 
tape and the buttons finished to suit, either with 
or without buttons, stitched or plain. Only one- 
fourth inch is allowed for seams. Quantity of 
material in pants, 27 inches wide, H yards. 




GENTS' DRAWERS. 




This pattern is layed off by the waist meas- 
ure and in accordance with the general direc- 
tions. It is in two pieces — leg and band. In 
cutting place the pattern of the leg length- 
wise of the cloth, and that of the band so 
that the part passing around the waist is 
lengthwise of the goods. Close the seams as 
shown by the notches. Take the darts on the 
hips, and mark a gusset at the center back. 
The narrow ends of bands fasten with a 
buckle. The garment may be made of any 
material suitable for such garments. One- 
fourth inch is allowed for all seams. 

Quantity of material, 36 in. wide, 21 yds. 





MEN'S OB BOYS' SHIRT WITH YOKE. 



This garment is layed off by the breast measure and in accordance with the 
general directions. Measure around the breast over the vest, drawing the tape 
line moderately tight; select the scale corresponding with the measure and 
use it in laying off the entire pattern. The pattern consist of seven pieces — 
front, back, sleeve, yoke, neck band, wrist band and cuff, which is designed to 
be worn with sleeve buttons. Shrink the cloth and double it lengthwise; cut 
the front, back, sleeve and wrist band with the longest straight edge of each 
layed on the lengthwise fold; cut the neck band, yoke and cuff lengthwise of 
the goods; a dotted line located on the front shows shape, size and position of 
the bosom; cut an opening down the back to the point lit; gather the back to 
fit the yoke, making the gathers between the points marked; 4f and 8; stay the 
termination in the sleeve seams with a small gussett; gather the bottom of the 
sleeve with to the wrist band or cuff, which ever is desired; join the sleeves 
to the shirt and fit to the under arm seam and sleeve seam together; distribute 
the fullness at the top of the shoulder; sew the neck of the garment plainly to 
the rounded edge of the neck band, with centers of the parts evenly together. 
The yoke should be lined, and if the muslin be cut away from under the bosom, 
leaving one-half inch next to the stitching, it will be found to wash and iron 
better. One-fourth inch is allowed for seams. 

Quantity of material, 36 in. wide, per pair, 6J yards; lining for bosoms, 
per pair, 1 yard. 





Wrist 
JSand 



NecJc 
Band 




MAN'S PANTS AND VEST, 



PANTS. 

This pattern is in four pieces— front, back, fly and waist 
band. The pattern is layed off by the hip measure and in 
accordance with the general directions. Regulate the length 
by a tape, and if the waist is to small, add half what is 
needed to the front edge of each front piece; cut all the parts 
lengthwise; the pockets are to be put into the side seams 
and of sufficient width to readily admit the hand, the upper 
end terminating at the waist band: face the front and back 
with the material, and before closing the seam stitch the 
front pocket edges as desired, fill the facing to the pocket; 
line the waist bands and attatch a facing to their lower edges 
to extend a short way down the back and terminate on each 
side at the pocket; also face the fly; turn under to fit the boot. 
If more or less spring is desired, give it by making more 
curved or strengthening the lines of the pattern between the 
knee and the lower end nearest the latter, aud in the front 
only. Attach strips to the back and press the seams in the 
leg, on aboard narrowed to pass through them, using a wet 
cloth between the iron and the goods in all cases. One- 
fourth inch is allowed for seams. 



VEST, 

The vest pattern consists of two pieces— front and back. 
Cut the back with its longest straight edge on a lengthwise 
fold of the goods to avoid a center seam; (it is best made of 
silesia) cut the other parts lengthwise; cut pocket opening 
as located; insert pockets and sew machine stitched welts to 
the lower edges of the opening, then turn the welts up and 
sew them in place; underface the front and lower edges with 
the material; make the strap the desired width by folding a 
piece the proper length in three thicknesses widest at one end 
so the strap will taper; turn under the outward edge of it 
and stitch both sides and across the narrow ends. Sew the 
buttons to the right front and work holes in the left; close 
the strap with a buckle and make it of the same material as 
back. The vest may be cut higher in front if desired by put- 
ting the curve above point 81 higher, or vise versa. One- 
fourth inch is allowed for seams. 




13 f— 




NEW STYLE VEST. 

This vest is cut high in front; the pattern is cut in two pieces— back 
and front. Double the goods and cut lengthwise; face front and lower 
part; put buttons on the right side; stitch welt on lower side of opening for 
pocket, turn up and machine stitch. The back can be made of different 
kinds of material, but silesia is best; fold three thicknesses of same mater- 
ial, one end a little wider than the other for straps; machine stitch sides 
and narrow end; put buckle upon left side. The front can easily be cut 
higher or lower by changing curve at 8i. 





MEWS SACK COAT. 



This coat is layed off by the breast measure. The pattern is in five pieces: front, 
back, collar and two sleeve portions. Cut the collar bias, the 'other pieces straight 
with the cloth. Take up the darts in the front exactly to the lines, making an open- 
ing for the pocket at the lower line and insert one; attach a machine stitched welt, 
turn it up and attach the corners so that the upper edge will be on the upper line and 
turning under the ends : secure them firmly with two rows of stitching A change 
pocket may be put in the right front if desired, between three and four inches above 
the other and near the front edge. If preferred, the pocket openings may be made by 
cutting on the upper line, sewing a facing to both front and back edges, stitching to 
form a bar and securing the ends with a bar tuck worked in over and over stitch. 

The coat may be fitted to button as high as desired by straightening the curved 
line of the collar, and by raising the second point on the base line ; or made to button 
lower by moving it downward. No other change is necessary to effect it. The 
curved row of stars on the collar and the straight row on the coat show the line 
where the collar turns. Length may be added to the coat by simply continuing the 
base line and carrying the last two lines drawn from it downward to a point located 
bv a tape line. Put the sleeve in with its back seam between the shoulder seam of 
the coat and the one next below it and about one-eighth of the distance from the 
shoulder seam. Hold it towards you while sewing it in and gather the extra fullness 
under the arm. The shoulders may be stiffened if desired, either with hair cloth or 
wigging ; in case it is used, bring the piece well over the shoulder, out to where the 
sleeve joins and down the back. One-fourth of an inch is allowed for seams. 





''The Lily Girl." 

Home, through the river's reeky fringe, 
She saunters, slow— 
Upon her smiling lips a tinge 
Of rose — a glow 

Of rapture, on the tender cheek, 
Eyes, that, uplifted, would be sure to speak 
Of the unsullied sr ul within her breast; 
A slender figure, simplv dressed 
"In russet gown," a 'kerchief, lied 
In careless fashion 'round her shapely neck. 
And, at her side, 

A gloved hnnri grasping lilies, to bedeck 
Her when, in fi my, spotless white. 
Evening shall fl d her to a wnter-sprite 
Transformed. Undine's very self — 
When Love— capric ous elf- 
Had her fair form invested with a soul, 
Which, we are told, of beauty is the whole 
Expression— fairer could not be, than she 
In her unconscious grace and sweet sim- 

piieity, 
An artist, passing— as in thought 
She's pause J a moment— truthlully caught 
And prisoned on his canvas, with most grace- 
ful brush, 
This bonny maiden in the early flush 
Of womanhood; upon her head 
Has set the soft-plumed hat of dusky red; 
Beneath its lim has put away the rare 
Luxuriance of her dark brown hair 
In wavy bands— has made her very fair 
To look upon"— just as she doubtless is, 
Whether she be ideal or a genuine Miss. 

—Sarah Louise Morris. 



AN INJUKED WIFE. 



"I wonder," thought Mrs. Thomp- 
son as she glanced at the clock on the 
mantel) i -ce — "I wonder what it is that 
keeps George so late? Twice this week 
he has been detained by what he calls 
business. I should think he could get 
home earlier if he chose." 

When at length Mr. Thompson came 
in, his wife's countenance wore an in- 
jured expression. He did not appear 
to observe it, but said, hurriedly, — 

"Emma, I'm sorry, but I can't stay 
to tea just now. Must go away at 
once, on particular business. Don't 
wait supper for me, and if you feel 
lonesome, couldn't you send over for 
your friend Miss Nettleby?" 

"I thought you didn'tlike Lucretia?" 

"Well, I don't particularly admire 
old maids, but if you like her society, 
I've no objection." 

"Old maids," said Mrs. Thompson, 
indignantly. "Lucretia is only four 
years older than I was when I married 
you, two years ago. You don't intend 
to insinuate that I was an old maid at 
that time?" 

"Certainly not — of course not!" re- 
plied Thompson in a conciliatory tone. 
"But you know some women look 
much older than others, even when 
their ages are the same." 

"I don't like to hear my friends 
abused," said Mrs. Thompson. "And 
at any rate, Lucretia is quite as nice as 
that bald-head, red-faced Mr. Head- 
stall that you're so foni of, and are al- 
ways asking to dinner. 

Mr. Thompson laughed good-natur- 
edly. 

"He's a capital fellow, is Joe. 
You'll like him better some day. 
Where's my other coat?" 

And he got himself ready, just as Mr. 
Joseph Headstall himself drove up to 
the door with the tine blood mare and 
dog-cart of which he was so proud, 
and carried of Mr. Thompson, leaving 
his wife to spend the evening alone. 

"I wonder where they are going P" 
thought Mrs. Thompson, turning from 
the, window, whence she had watched 
them. "This looks more like deasure 



than business, and lieorge seems m 
uncommonly good spirits." 

Her eye fell upon her husband's coat, 
which he had left carelessly thrown 
across a chair. The end of a morocco- 
covered note-book protruded from an 
insidi pocket, and Mrs. Thompson in- 
stantly pounced upon it, removed the 
elastic band, and eagerly scanned the 
pages. 

There were plenty of memoranda, 
and ciphers, and notes of various mat- 
tors, as unintelligible as so many 
Egyptian hieroglyphics. 

But as she handled the book some- 
thing carefully wrapped in tissue-paper 
slipped from a little pocket and fell at 
her feet. Picking it up, her horror- 
s;rickcn gaze rested upon the photo- 
graph of a beautiful woman. 

Sue dropped the picture as though it 
had been a serpent, and was standing 
stonily gazing at it when Bridget an- 
nounced Miss N 'ttleby. 

"Show her up!" said Mrs. Thomp- 
son, as she sank hysterically upon the 
lounge, and began to beat the carpet 
with her feet, and clutch the cushion 
with her hands. 

And Bridget, well knowing these 
symptoms, hurried down witli a report 
whi ;h speedily brought up the visitor. 

"Mr darling Euma!" exclaimed 
Miss Nettlebv, bending over her 
friend, "what has happened? What is 
the matter?" 

For answer, Mrs. Thompson pointed 
to the photograph upon the floor. 

"I found it in — in his pocket!" she 
sobbed. "Oa, Lucretia, what am I to 
do? Isn't it dreadful?" 

"My dear," answered Miss Nettleby, 
with ominous calmness, "it is only 
what I have been prepared for. Don't 
you remember how often before your 
marriage I warned you not to trust to 
him?" 

This was true, for Miss Nettleby, 
failing in her efforts to entrap Mr. 
Thompson, had done her best to pre- 
vent him marrying her friend. 

"It's only in the last week that he is 
so changed," moaned Emma. "He 
hardly comes home at ail now; and 
neglects me shamefully. 

"We can understand why," said 
Miss Nettleby, glancing significantly at 
the photograph. "Have you any idea, 
Emma, whose this is?" 

"Not the least; but it looks like 
some horrid actress or ballet-dancer." 

"It's very handsome, at least," said 
Lucretia, with a little, half -malicious 
side-glance at her friend. "How did 
you happen to find it?" 

"Why, I was looking over that little 
note-book there, just to see if I could 
find out what business detains George 
in the evenings, and the picture slipped 
out of a pocket in the cover. 

"And did you find a clue?" inquired 
Miss Nettleby, eagerly. 

"No. I had just commenced look- 
ing. It is a sort of memorandum, I 
believe." 

"In that case, the last week's entries 
might afford some information," sug- 
gested Miss Nettleby. 

Mrs. Thompson opened the pocket- 
book, and glanced over the last writ- 
ten page. 

"There's something here about 



'Bngntons,' ana 'foster ac uompany, 
and a consignment, and some figures. 
I'm sure I can't make out what it all 
means. And here, just look over this, 
Lucretia!" 

Miss Nettleby read out aloud. 

"Mem. Foster & Co. — consignment 
—See Fanny — jewellers — Ch. Siip'r." 

"What!" cried Mrs. Thompson, 
starting upright on the lounge. "See 
Fanny? Oh, the deceiver! Who would 
ever have thought it?" 

"No doubt," said Lucretia, her eyes 
gleaming with triumph, as she held up 
the photograph — "no doubt we've at 
last got a clue. This is Fanny, and — 
I declare!" glancing again at the book; 
"the date is the fifteenth — this very 
day! Why, it must be to see her that 
he has gone!" 

Mrs. Thompson gave an hysterical 
sob, ending in a suppressed scream. 

"Don't worry yourself about it, 
Emma, I beseech you!" said her friend, 
bathing her hands and forehead with 
cologne-water. "It's just like the rest 
of the men. They're not one of them 
to be trusted, I've always said so; and 
I pitv you — indeed I do!" 

"Oh, the sly, deceitful hypocrite!" 
gasped Emma, "To neglect his own 
wife, and pay attention to a creature 
like that!" 

"And making her presents of jew- 
elry," sneered Lucretia. 

"And the 'Ch. Sup.' — what can that 
mean?" 

"Why, champagne supper, of course! 
Any one can see that." 

"The wretch!" cried Mrs. Thomp- 
son, indignantly. "To think of his 
spending his money in that way, at the 
very time he assured me he couldn't 
afford to get me that basket-phaeton 
and pony that I've been longing for. I 
won't bear it any longer. I'll leave 
him. I'll go home to ma. I'll get a 
divorce. I'll go now — this very night!" 

Her friend strongly approved of this 
resolution. She had never forgiven 
George Thompson for marrying Emma 
instead of herself; and it was balm to 
her feelings to think of such a punish- 
ment befalling him. 

At nine o'clock precisely, Mr. 
Thompson let himself in at the front 
door. He paused in surprise at the 
sight which greeted him. 

Three or four trunks and boxes stood 
piled in the hall, with a multitude of 
smaller packages. Mrs. Thompson, in 
bonnet and cloak, stood at the door, 
with Bridget close by. Thev were 
waiting for a carriage. Miss Nettleby, 
on hearing the masculine step, had tied 
into the back dining-room, out of sight, 
but not out of hearing. 

"Why, Emma! what on earth does 
all this mean? What has happened?" 
questioned Thompson in an alarmed 
tone. 

"What has happened?" repeated 
Mrs. Thompson, with a great effort to 
be calm and majestic in the dignity 
of injured innocence. "A great deal 
has happened. My eyes have been 
opened to what I was simple and con- 
fiding enough never before to have sus- 
pected." 

"Emma, what can you mean? What 
is the matter? I don't in the least un- 
derstand it!" 



"Oh, of course not! iou aont Know 
anything at all about it! You thought 
I never heard of — of that creature 
Fanny! You thought you were keep- 
ing it a secret from me!" 

Mr. Thompson's countenance 
changed. A sort of subdued and guilty 
expression came over it. 

"How did you learn about Fanny? 
And I don't see why your finding it out 
should have excited you thus. If I 
kept it a secret from you it was only in 
order to " 

"Do you hear that?" exclaimed Mrs. 
Thompson tragically, to the universe 
in general. "He confesses, and with- 
out a blush!" 

"I have nothing to blush for," said 
Thompson firmly. "Have you lost 
your senses, Emma?" 

"Oh! he's nothing to blush for!" 
sneered the outraged wife. "And 
you're not a bit ashamed of dressing 
up your dear Fanny in jewelry, and 
treating her to champagne suppers, I 
suppose." 

"Treating Fanny to champagne! 
What on earth are you talking about?" 

"I am talking about the wretched 
creature for whom you have neglected 
your wife. Don't deny anything! I 
know all about it. I found her photo- 
graph, and I found her name in the 
same book; a memorandum to 'go and 
see Fanny' this very evening!" 

It was a study to behold Thompson's 
countenance while his injured and in- 
dignant wife thus brought home to him 
all these accumulated charges. 

First, there was a look of wonder 
and perplexity, then of sudden intelli- 
gence, followed by the oddest expres- 
sion imaginable. 

And when she concluded, he sank 
into the nearest hall-chair, tried to 
speak, apparently in explanation, and 
then, leaning back, laughed long and 
loud. 

"Sure, it's an unfalin' baste he is, 
inthirely!" muttered Bridget, all of 
whose sympathies were on the side of 
her injured mistress. 

The latter, after gazing an instant at 
her husband, sat down likewise, and, 
under the mortification of insult added 
to injury, burst into tears. 

Then Thompson calmed himself, 
wiped his eyes, and addressed his wife 
with a voice still quivering with sup- 
pressed mirth: 

"Emma, do you know whose picture 
this is?" 

"Don't presume to speak to me — 
don't!" sobbed Mrs. Thompson. 

"But, my dear, allow me to explain. 
Don't you remember expressing a wish 
to have Mademoiselle Ferlini's picture, 
'to see what she looks like?' Well, in 
coming home this evening, I observed 
somes cartes in the Stereoscopia Com- 
pany's window, and purchased one, 
but in my haste forgot to give it to 
you. This is her photograph." 

Mrs. Thompson looked up incredu- 
lously. 

"You are deceiving me," she said. 

"If you doubt me, go down to Cheap- 
side to-morrow and satisfy yourself. 
And now, as to Fanny — do you know 
who Fanny is? 

"Don't mention her to me — the hor- 
rid creature!" 



••i'anny isn't horrid at all. She is a 
perfect little beauty, with bright eyes 
and dainty limbs, gentle as a lamb, 
and graceful as a fairy. I fell in love 
with her at first sight?' 

Mrs. Thompson gave a convulsive 
scream, and beat her feet on the floor. 

"And so will you, dear, when you 
see her. She is the prettiest little pony 
in London, and just suited to a lady's 
basket-phaeton. I had intended it for 
a surprise on your birthday, but that 
unfortunate note-book has spoiled my 
plan." 

His wife looked up. She knew bet- 
ter than to doubt that honest, half-re- 
gretful, half-reproachful look. Her 
face crimsoned with shame. 

"Oh, George, you don't mean it?" 

"Well, you'll know better next time," 
he answered soothingly; "and we both 
learn not to have a secret from each 
other. It's the best plan, after all, as 
Headstall hinted to me from the first." 

His wife flushed a little, then said, 
doubtfully: 

"But about the jeweler's, and the 
champagne supper?" 

"I made a memorandum to call at 
: the jeweler's for my watch, which I 
j had left for repairs. I had also to call 
I on the chief superintendent of the gas- 
i works, whom your imagination has 
converted into a champagne supper." 

"How ridiculous! But it was all the 
fault of your careless writing." 

"Well, I didn't expect it to be criti- 
cised by a lady, you know." 

"Sure," said Bridget, "he's turned 
the tables inthirely. And plaze, mum, 
isn't it a bite o' supper the masther 
would like, and him comin' home so 
late?" 

"A good suggestion," Thompson ad- 
mitted. 

And as he walked into the dining- 
room, with his arm round his wife's 
waist, someone whisked out of the side 
door and they heard the hall door close. 

"It's only Lucretia Nettle by," Mrs. 
; Thompson explained. "I had entirely 
I forgotten her. 

"Ah, indeed! That explains about 
your contemplated journey!" said her 
husband, looking enlightened. 



He Wanted, a Chance. 



Rosy Snow. 

Rosy snow on the roofs in the morning; 

Drifts in the hollows, by wild winds curled; 
Bells on the beaten road chime away cheer* 
ingly— 

the great white world ! 
Brown little sparrows on twigs bare and red, 
You shall have crumbs both of cake and of 

bread— 
I will remember you, flitting' unfearingly 
Out in the great white world! 

Bosy snow on the orchard this morning! 
Faint-flushed blossoms with crisp edges 
curled; 
Soft-floating petals by blithe breezes flung to 
me— 

Oh the sweet white world I 
Young whistling robin with round ruddy 

breast, 
I'll never touch your blue eggs in the nest; 
I will remember the welcome you've sung to 
me 

Out in the sweet white world ! 
—Helen Gray Cone, in St. Nicholas for May 

A SEA-SUELI.. 



Husband — "Do you know, my dear, 
that the men would be happier if the 
women would follow some of the cus- 
toms of the Japanese?" 

Wife — "Why you horrid thing! You 
wouldn't want me to blacken my teeth, 
would you?" 

Husband — "No; but there is one 
thing the Japanese women do which, if 
you followed might give me a chance 
to look in the mirror occasionally." 

Wife — "What on earth can that be?" 

Husband — "They dress their hair 

only once in four days, darling." — New 

York Journal. 

m ■ m 

A New York doctor says small feet 
signify a quick temper. The assertion 
that the belle of Chicago has a per- 
fectly angelic disposition must be true. 

"In England the "drummer" is 
called a "bagman." 

There are twenty-eight direct heirs to 
the succession of the British throne. 



It is not much of a story, but it would 
have been a great deal happier one if it 
had not been for the little pink twisted 
shell which Jack Wallace found and 
gave to Dora Carter down on the beach 
the day Jack sailed for Bombay. 

They had spent the afternoon there 
on the beach walking up and down, 
arm in arm, or sitting on some bit of 
broken spar, Jack's arm around her 
waist, and her little brown hands 
clasped closely in his great strong fin- 
gers. 

They talked about their future; about 
the morrow and its parting, and 
whether they should ever meet again, 
and how Dora would break her heart if 
they didn't. 

And Jack told Dora how, when he 
was away on the sea and in the far-ofF 
eastern land, he would always think of 
her and strive to keep his life pure and 
good for her sake, and never do any- 
thing to render him unworthy of her. 

And Dora told Jack how lonely and 
sad she would be when he was gone, 
and how she would pray for him every 
night, and if it was stormy lie awake 
and tremble to thiDk of him on the 
furious ocean; and how faithful and 
true she would always be to him, and 
how he would find a letter from her at 
every port where the vessel touched, 
and must be sure to send one back to 
her. 

And they both talked of the time 
when Jack should return and buy the 
little stone cottage at the Headland; 
and of the quiet wedding they should 
have, and Dora should be mistress of 
the stone cottage; and then when Jack 
came to be commander of a ship, in- 
stead of second-mate, Dora should ac- 
company him on his voyages and be the 
captain's lady. 

I doubt if there ever was a happier 
pair of lovers, albeit their long parting 
was so near. 

And suddenly Jack's eye caught the 
rose-colored gleam of a little shell 
among the shining sands at his feet, 
and he picked it up and gave it to Dora, 
saying: 

"Keep it for my sake. When I am 
gone it shall mind you of your sailor." 

"As if I needed anything to remind 
me of him!" answered Dora, with a 
little pout 

"Nay, then," said Jack, lightly, "I 
have a whim. Let it be the sisn of 



your constancy. Keep it tin you cease 
to love me, and part with it only to the 
man who wins your heart from me." 

"You know that no man ever will, 
Jack, deai\ What gave you such a 
thought." 

"It just occurred to me to be jealous 
of that handsome Tom Selwiu and tall 
Dirck Landfred and — and — all the rest 
of them who would give their eyes for 
my bird. Dora dear, when I'm away 
don't sail with Tom and ride with Dirck 
as you've been used to," said selfish 
J;ick, half anxiously, half playfully. 

"You great bear," scolded Dora, "to 
be so jealous! If you were not going 
away so soon I'd be angry with you. 
But I'll give you the promise, Jack," 
she added, seeing his sober look. "I 
will do just as you wish, dear." 

And so Jack sailed with the comfort- 
ing conviction that Dora was quite safe 
from tiie attentions of his many rivals. 

Alas! that wretched little shell! it 
and Jack's jealousy were the cause of 
all the trouble that came to those two- 
Over a year from that day Jack met 
Dirck Landfre-l, i, 000 miles from Dora, 
and was very glad the handsome fel- 
low, who loved as madly as Jack him- 
self, was no nearer her. 

Until this little cooiue.ss about Dora. 
Jack and Dirck had always been the 
best of friends, and now Jack was not 
sorry when Dirck shipped for his re- 
turn vovage on the same vessel with 
him. Dirck had sailed two weeks after 
Jack and for the same port. As I said, 
Jack was not ill-pleased to have him 
for a shipmate, and before the long 
voyage was half ended they were as 
good friends as ever. 

One day when Dirck was rummaging 
tjjhjeugii his chest after some trifle, 
Jack came along and sat down for a 
chat. And suddenly, while they talked, 
Dirck opened a little box of miscellan- 
eous odds and ends, and Jack caught 
sight among them of a little pink, shin- 
ing shell, for he would have known it 
among ten thousand. 

"Dirck, where did you get that 
shell?" he demanded, in a voice so 
sharp that Dirck looked up, startled. 

"Where did I get it?" he responded 
jestingly, ' 'My sweetheart gave it me. " 

Jack stared at him one minute with 
great, agonized eyes, too blind, in his 
sudden anguish, to see that he was but 
joking Then a strange, white pallor 
settled over his bronzed face, and he 
walked silently away. She was false 
to him, then; she had given the shell 
to Dirck Landfred; and was not this 
the sign that she had transferred her 
love, also, to him. 

Jack did not go near Dirck again, or 
he might have learned the truth; how 
Dirck had picked up the shell on the 
beach, and, pleased with its beauty, 
had carried it away with him, never 
dreaming that Dora had lost it there, 
and that he was hardly out of sight be- 
fore she came back to look for it. 

If Dirck, loyal heart, had known 
that, he would have walked a hundred 
miles to restore her the gift of his suc- 
cessful rival. 

But Jack did not ask, and Dirck, of- 
fended at his sudden coldness, did not 
tell him how he came in possession of 

t.liA aliflll. 



He saw that Jack avoided him, and 
with no knowledge of the cause he was 
too proud to seek his company. So 
the two never exchanged another word 
while Jack remained on the ship, which 
was not long, for at the next port Jack 
managed to get his discharge from the 
captain and left the vessel. 

For a few years he roamed about 
without any definite aim, and then a 
pretty Portuguese girl fell in love with 
him, and Jack married her out of pity. 
He made her a fair husband, though he 
did not love her, but he never forgot 
Dora, and he lived and died without 
knowing how he had misjudged her — 
I won't say wronged her, for it's my 
belief she was as well off without him, 
and that he never was worthy of her. 

As for her, she waited and waited for 
Jack, or news from him, and at last 
got the latter. 

Somebody came and told her of his 
marriage, and gave a glowing descrip- 
tion of his beautiful Portuguese wife. 
At first it almost broke her heart, poor 
girl. But by-and-by resentment got 
the better of her grief, and she would 
not mourn for such a miscreant. And 
after a while came Dirck wooing her 
again, when he knew he had the right. 

She never could love him again as 
she had loved Jack Wallace, and she 
knew it; but she promised Dirck to 
make him a dutiful wife, and he was 
content: so they were married. 

Long years after Dora found the 
shell in Dirck's old box, and then it all 
came out; but Dora did not greatly re- 
gret it, for Dirck was good and loving, 
and it she did not adore him as she 
had Jack, she knew he was the nobler 
man of the tu o. 

As I said, it is not much of a story, 
and perhaps you will say it does not 
end well. Ahl stories in real life sel- 
dom end as we think. 



The Outcast Poor of London. 



Watterson aucl Bright. 



I heard, the other night, a story 
about Watterson, writes a correspond- 
ent. Not long ago he was in Indian- 
apolis. There he sat down to a game 
of poker with "Dick" Bright, who was 
recently sergeant-at arms of the sen- 
ate and president of the city horse rail- 
road. Watterson had great luck. The 
money rolled in upon him. When he 
was about $4,000 ahead he began to 
think how he would spend it. "I will 
ride home in the best hack this city af- 
fords," he said. Before a great while 
he had $5,000 in winnings. "I will 
drive to my hotel with four white 
horses, and a darkey leading each 
one," was his exultant announcement. 
From that moment his luck turned. 
Every cent in his pile was gone, and 
his pocketbook began to look thin. 
The railroad president fumbled in his 
pocket. Taking out a car ticket, he 
passed it across the table. "Here, 
Watterson, you said you should ride 
home. Put that in your pocket and 
you can." Watterson walked, and 
still keeps the car ticket as a reminder 
of the night the Hoosier strapped him. 

There are now sixty life convicts 
in Sing Sing prison. 



Bom 'neath 6ome favoring' star's auspicious 
ray, 
Bred in the envied ease tbat knows no 

care, 
(Perchance to some high heritage the 
heir), 
Taught how to love, to honor, and to pray, 
Fed without toil or trouble day by day — 

How shall the child of fortune's gifts so 

rare 
Measure the weary breadwinner's de- 
spair? 
His world is but a pleasure ground of play. 

Reared in the rookery of foul repute. 

Cradled in crime, suckled by squalid 

sliamo 
(Perchance of birth unblest to bear the 
biame). 
Taught but those things which life and love 

pollute. 
Of needful food and raiment destitute- 
How shall misfortune's child alliance 

claim 
With honest folk? How shall he learn to 
tame 
The savage instincts of th' ancestral brute? 

Grudge not your garner'd grain, O gilded 
great, 
To help these outcastsl 'Neath their 

shrunken skin 
Pulsates that life which makes all crea- 
tures kin 
And claims your voice it's cause to advocate. 
These brothers from a soul-corroding state 
A ministry of meicy yet can win; 
So may their darken'd dens of shame and 
sin 
The lamps of love at last illuminate! 

°* Jsmes Razette. 

A SPECIAL CONSTABLE. 



Two women, sisters, kept the toll- 
bar at a village in Yorkshire. It stood 
apart from the village, and they often 
felt uneasy atnight, being lone women. 

One day they received a considerable 
sum of money, bequeathed them by a 
relative, and that set the simple souls 
all in a flutter. 

They had a friend in the village, the 
blacksmith's wife; so they went and 
told her their fears. She admitted that 
theirs was a lonesome place, and she 
would not live there, for one, without 
a man. Her discourse sent them home 
downright miserable. 

The blacksmith's wife told her hus- 
band all about it when he came in for 
his dinner. "The fools!" said he; "how 
is anybody to know they have got brass 
in the house?" 

"Well," said the wife, "they make 
no secret of it to me; but you need not' 
go for to tell it to all the town — poor 
souls!" 

"Not I," said the man; "but they 
will publish it, never fear; leave wo- 
men folk alone for making their own 
trouble with their tongues." 

There the subject dropjied, as man 
and wife have things to talk about be- 
sides their neighbors. 

The old women at the toll-bar, what 
with their own fears and their Job's 
comforter, began to shiver with appre- 
hension as night came on. However, 
at sunset the carrier passed through 
the gate, and at sight of his friendly 
face they brightened up. They told 
him their care, and begged him to sleep 
in the house that night. "Why, how 

can I?" said he; "I'm due at ; but 

I will leave you my dog." The dog 
was a powerful mastiff. 

The women looked at each other ex- 
pressively. "He won't hurt us, will 
he?" sio-hed one of them, faintly. 

"Not he," said the carrier, cheer- 
fully. Then he called the doe - into the 



house, and told them to Jock tne aoor, 
and went away whistling. 

The women were left contemplating 
the dog with that tender interest ap- 
prehension is sure to excite. At first 
he seemed staggered at this off-hand 
proceeding of his master; it confused 
him; then he snuffed at the door; then, 
as the wheels retreated, he began to 
see plainly he was an abandoned dog; 
he delivered a fearful howl, and flew 
at the door, scratching and barking 
furiously. 

The old women fled the apartment, 
and were next seen at an upper win- 
dow, screaming to the carrier, "Come 
back! come back, John! He is tearing 
the house down." 

"Drat the varmint!" said John, and 
came back. On the road he thought 
what was best to be done. The good- 
natured fellow took his great coat out 
of the cart and laid it down on the 
floor. The mastiff instantly laid him- 
self on it. "Now," said John, sternly, 
"let us have no more nonsense; you 
take charge of that till I come back, 
and don't ye let nobody steal that 
there, nor yet t' wives' brass. There, 
now," said he, kindly, to the women, 
"I shall be back this way breakfast- 
time, and he won't budge till then." 

"And he won't hurt us, John?" 

"Lord, no! Bless your heart, he is 
as sensible as any Christian; only, 
Lord sake, woman don't ye go to take 
the coat from him, or you'll be wanting 
a new gown yourself, and maybe a pet- 
ticoat and all." 

He retired, and the old women kept 
at a respectful distance from their pro- 
tector. He never molested them; and, 
indeed, when they spoke cajolingly to 
him he even wagged his tail in a dub- 
ious way; but still, as they moved 
about, he squinted at them out of his 
bloodshot eye in a way that checked 
all desire on their part to try on the 
cai'rier's coat. 

Thus protected, they went to bed 
earlier than usual, but they did not un- 
dress; they were too much afraid of 
everything, especially their protector. 
The night wore on, and presently their 
sharpened senses let them know that 
the dog was getting restless; he 
snuffed, and then he growled, and then 
he got up and pattered about, mutter- 
ing to himself. Straightway, with fur- 
niture, they barricaded the door 
through which their protector must 
pass to devour them. 

But by and by, listening acutely, they 
heard a scraping and a grating outside 
the window of the room where the dog 
was, and he continued growling low. 
This was enough; they slipped out at 
the back door, and left their money to 
save their lives; they got into the vil- 
lage. It was pitch dark, and all the 
houses black but two; one was the 
public house, casting a triangular 
gleam across the road a long way off, 
and the other was the blacksmith's 
house. Here was a piece of fortune 
for the terrified women. They burst 
into their friend's house. "Oh, Jane! 
the thieves are come!" and they told 
her in a few words all that had hap- 
pened. 

"La!" said she; "how timorsome you 
%re! ten to one he was only growlinc 



at some one that passed by." 

"Nay, Jane, we heard the scraping 
outside the window. Oh, woman, call 
your man and let him go with us." 

"My man — he is not here." 

"Where is he, then?" 

"I suppose he is where the other 
working-women's husbands are, at the 
public-house," said she, rather bitterly, 
for she had her experience. 

The old women wanted to go to the 
public-house for him; but the black- 
smith's wife was a courageous woman, 
and, besides, she thought it was most 
likely a false alarm. "Nay, nay," 
said she, "last time I went for him 
there I got a fine aftront. I'll come 
with you," said she. "I'll take the 
poker, and we have got our tongues to 
raise the town with, I suppose." So 
they marched to the toll-bar. When 
they got near it they saw something 
that staggered tbis heroine. There 
was actually a man half in and half 
out of the wiDdow. This brought the 
blacksmith's wife to a stand-still, and 
the timid pair implored her to go back 
to the village. "Nay, i*ay," said she, 
"what for? I see but one — and- — hark! 
it is my belief the dog is holding of 
him." However, she thought it safest 
to be on the same side with the dog, 
lest the man might turn on her. So 
she made her way into the kitchen, fol- 
lowed by the other two; and there a 
sight met their eyes that changed all 
their feelings, both toward the robber 
and toward each other. The great 
mastiff had pinned a man by the 
throat, and was pulling at him, to draw 
him through the window, with fierce 
but muffled snarls. The man's weight 
alone prevented it. The window was 
like a picture-frame, and in that frame 
there glared, with lolling tongue and 
starting eyes, the white face of the 
blacksmith, their courageous friend's 
villainous husband. She uttered an 
appalling scream, and flew upon the 
dog and choked him with her two 
hands. He held, and growled, and 
tore till he was all but throttled him- 
self; then he let go and the man fell. 
But what struck the ground outside 
like a lump of lead was in truth a 
lump of clay. The man was quite 
dead, and fearfully torn about the 
throat. So did a comedy end in an ap- 
palling- and most piteous tragedy; not 
that the scoundrel himself deserved 
any pity, but his poor, brave, honest 
wife, to whom he had not dared confide 
the villainy he meditated. 



Life in the Mikado's Empire. 

Everyone, rich and poor, in Japan 
takes a dip at least once a day in a 
caldron of hot water. The rich bathe 
before dinner and at bedtime. The 
whole household dip in the hot water. 
A bath, unless at a thermal spring, is 
only an immersion. Precedence is 
given to the elders, when there are no 
visitors, then to the young people, ac- 
cording to their age, next to the maid- 
servants, and lastly to the women. 
Prefatory ablutions of feet and hands 
are performed in basins, and on get- 
ting out of the caldron each bather 
gargles mouth and throat with cold 
aromatized water. In very hot weather 



tney all tan eacn omeTs uouies to urj 
them. Modesty does not begin in 
Japan where beauty ends. Human be- 
ings who are as fat and shapeless as 
too prosperous quails do not mind be- 
ing fanned. The nobility never went 
naked in the streets. But in their cas- 
tles or shires and their parks they did 
and do — formerly to be cool in hot 
weather and now to economize their 
European garments. Hunchbacks and 
deformed persons are almost unknown. 
In a Japanese Eden the law of natural 
selection prevails. We came up coun- 
try, whenever thei-e was a road, in jin- 
rinkchas, and when the ground was 
too rough for wheels, we were carried 
in norimous, borne by two, three or 
four men, who are strong as horses. 
When the ground is flat or down-hill, 
there are two, or one before and two 
behind. These bearers are mostly dis- 
banded feudal retainers, or soldiers of 
the Daimois, but they are not allowed 
to wear their old military costumes or 
swords, and the authorities are almost 
glad when they see them with a drap- 
ery of tough paper round their loins 
and nothing else. It was to prevent 
sword-wearing and its probable conse- 
quences that the Mikado ordered civil 
servants to don the ridiculous Euro- 
pean costume, which is imported here 
by the Jew agents of the Paris and 
London hand me-down stores. — Pall 

Afnll Gn7.t>tte- 

Cremation in England. 



Dr. Price the "Druid," has not lived 
wholly in vain. At least he has been 
the means of eliciting high judicial 
opinion as to the legality of cremation. 
So far as the law is concerned, every 
man may dispose of his dead by burn- 
ing if it seems fit to him. Nor need 
he now journey in company with a 
coffin to Berlin or Milan in order that 
his deceased relative may be reduced 
to ashes if not to dust. A cremation 
society has been formed in England, 
which has got its stoves and furnaces 
in working order, its staff of "opera- 
tors," and its medical officers all com- 
plete, and wants for nothing, it ap- 
pears, but business. No doubt it will 
soon get it, now that neither law nor 
religion seems to be necessarily op- 
posed to the new process. There is 
one matter, however, on which the so- 
ciety will require to give good guaran- 
tees to the public. They have an- 
nounced that cai-eful precautions will 
be taken to ascertain in all cases the 
cause of death before the body is given 
to the flames. People are not often 
poisoned, perhaps, but such cases do 
happen, and no poisoner could wish 
for anything more than the complete 
and immediate destruction of his vic- 
tim's remains. And facilities of con- 
cealment naturally increase the temp- 
tation to crime. — St. James's Gazette. 



Four prominent members of a Cin- 
cinnati whist club certify to a remark- 
able hand of whist played by them re- 
cently, at which, after the cards had 
been thoroughly shuffled, one of the 
players received thirteen diamonds, 
another thirteen spades, and another 
thirteen hearts, and the other thirteen 
clubs, the latter being trumps. Two 
nacks of cards were used. 



The Old Arctic Rubbers. 



I. 

How shabby my old rubber arctics are grow- 
ing; 
The days of their usefulness will soon be 
o'er, 
How well I remember, 'twas blowing and 
snowing 
The day that I carried them home from the 
store. 
Both Wiggins and Vennor predicted a 6nort> 
er; 
The north wind was howling and fast the 
snow fell, 
I bought them and paid for them two and a 
quarter, 
The oid arctic rubbers that served me so 
well; 
The o d arctic rubbers, the flanneMined rub- 
bers, 
The old arctic rubbers that served me so 
well. 

II. 
They gave me protection whenever a bliz- 
zard 
'Neath snow drifts, knee-high, hid the side- 
walk, and street, 
And daily, while humorous exchanges I scis- 
sored, 
They lay near the legs of the desk at my 
feet, 
For cuspidores often they served witty fel- 
lows 
Who came to the sanctum old stories to 
tell, 
And ladies stood in them dripping umbrel- 
las, 
The old arctic rubbers that served me so 
well; 
The old arctic rubbers, the flannel-lined rub- 
bers, 
The old arctic rubbers that served me so 
well. 

III. 

The buckles that formerly glittered like 
spangles 
Are rusty and broken, their ruin complete; 
The sides of the soles and the heels describe 
angles 
That make me look bow-legged when walk- 
ing the street, 
But.though they're a wreck now in sole, heel 
and upper, 
Some hungry goat's appetite yet they may 
quell, 
By furnishing him with a breakfast or sup- 
per, 
The old arctic rubbers that served me so 
well; 
The old arctic rubbers, the flannel-lined rub- 
bers, 
The old arctic rubbers that served me so 
well. 

— Somerville Journal. 



HOW HE WAS CAUGHT. 



Neither tall nor short, neither dark 
nor fair, with hair between dark and 
brown, and eyes that left a doubt as to 
whether they were gray or hazel. She 
was just such a little bundle of uncer- 
tainties and contradictions as led the 
imagination captive at the first glance, 
and offered a constant lure to anticipa- 
tion. 

Whether she spoke or remained si- 
lent, whether she walked or sat, expec- 
tation hung breathless upon her next 
word, her next pose. Her eyes, vary- 
ing as seemed their hue, shone none 
the less with a candid ray that seemed 
the very light of truth, and her fresh 
mouth, with its milky teeth showing 
between the not too-smiling lips, irre- 
sistibly suggested the sweetest uses to 
which lips can be put. 

The heavily moving steamer had 
plowed through half the great Atlantic 
rollers, and the few passengers had all 
grown heartily tired of each other, 
when she suddenly appeared for the 
first time upon deck quite alone, yet 
calm and self-centered as the small 
birds that sometimes poised themselves 
upon spar or bulwark to gather breath 

foi. fraah -flicrhfc. 



It was Julius flilder who had first 
discovered her, leaning against the 
companionway railing, with the air of 
having just come up or down, he could 
hardly determine which, looking ab 
sently at the tumbling water. 

Julius and his friend, Austin Drake, 
were seceders from a gay party who 
had made the tour of Southern Europe 
together. It was Julius who had insti- 
gated his companion to desert the oth- 
ers and take the German steamer for 
New Orleans direct, which then touch- 
ed at Havre, instead of crossing by 
a Cnnarder; and it had all grown out 
of the obstinate determination on the 
part of his sister to attach her party to 
that of Mrs. Smoiiett. 

Mrs. Smollett was his choicest aver- 
sion, a pretentious, intriguing woman, 
in whom the match-making instinct 
had been so developed by the effort to 
establish her own five daughters that it 
could not rest satisfied with the accom- 
plishment of that gig-antic task. She 
seemed to have an endless supply of 
nieces, adopted daughters, or proteges 
of some sort whom she dangled osten- 
tatiously before the eyes of all eligible 
bachelors. She had improved a chance 
meeting with Julius to announce to 
him a new acquisition, a lovely young 
creature, whom she was taking home 
with her from a Swiss Pension. 

"Mr. Smollett's own niece, Mr. Hil- 
der, and quite like my Fanny at her 
age. You remember Fanny? She was 
your first love, I believe," she had 
said, with her ogling dowager smile, 
and Julius had felt himself seized at 
once with an unsurmountable aversion 
to the fair young niece of Mrs. Smol- 
lett 

In the first heat of indignation 
agaist his sister he had conceived this 
notable scheme of crossing by the 
Havre steamer, and though it had not 
in its development proved to be emi- 
nently amusing, he had never omitted 
to congratulate himself and his com- 
panion, night and morning, upon the 
good sense they had displayed in adopt- 
ing it. 

"No chattering girls or designing 
dowagers," he would say, and he 
yawned over the book or the dull game 
with which they strove to believe they 
were amusing themselves, "give a man 
time to pull himself together and take 
account of stock, as it were." Still, 
when one of those aimless pilgrimages 
below which formed the only break in 
the monotony of this occupation, he 
had nearly ran over this pretty young 
creature leaning against the railings, 
a thrill of undeniable pleasure had 
coursed along his nerves and he had 
felt himself blushing with pleased 
surprise. 

Fortunately the sea-tan had rendered 
the blush indistinct, but over the light 
that shot into his gray eyes the sea-tan 
had no power, nor yet over the tongue 
that stammered as he tried to convey 
his apologies for nearly upsetting her, 
and his offer of service in conducting 
her to a seat. 

"Thank you," she had answered 
coolly, "you did not startle me, as I 
saw you coming; and I am not sure 
that I want a seat." 

There was no more to be said, and 



her maid appeared at the moment wltn 
a bundle of parti-colored wraps. Ju- 
lius could only lift his hat again and 
carry out his purpose of going below. 
As he had no reasons for going except 
that he was tired of staying on deck, 
and as the deck had now acquired par- 
amount attraction, he was soon back 
again. 

In the meantime the young lady had 
made up her mind about the seat, and 
had found one for herself close against 
the ship's side on the weather quarter. 
It was not a pleasant location, but as she 
had chosen it, and had wrapped a large 
shawl around her in an exclusive sort 
of way, he saw no plausible ground 
for interfering. 

Nothing could have been more dis- 
creet and retiring than Miss Elton's 
behavior, but the perseverance of the 
man who finds himself bored by too 
much of his own and his alter ego's so- 
ciety, is an incalculable force against 
which no woman can successfully en- 
trench herself, and so it was not long 
before Drake found himself eliminated, 
as a superfluous factor, from the sum 
of his friend's enjoyment, whenever 
Miss Elton appeared above deck. His 
success, however, was more apparent 
than real, for although he knew her 
name, and was allowed to carry her 
book and her shawl, and arrange her 
chair in the most comfortable position 
with reference to the wind or the sun, 
he had really made no great progress 
in her confidence. Who she was, or 
why she had chosen to make the voy- 
age in this unconventional and eccen- 
tric way, remained as great a mystery 
as it had been on that memorable first 
day. It was the close of the tenth 
day, dating from that of his discovery, 
and Julius sat beside her in that inti- 
mate fashion bred of the isolation of 
the sea. 

He had been reading to her, but 
the story was finished, and a silence 
had ensued, she appearing to be wrap- 
ped in thought, and he watching her face 
v. ith half-veiled glances. 

"Three more days and we shall be 
at home," she said, rousing herself. 

"You count the days," he said. 
"Are you eager to be there?" 

"No; neither eager nor reluctant. 
The voyage has been pleasant, but it 
will be nice to be on shore again, too." 

"What, or rather who, is going to 
make it nice? Anybody in particu- 
lar?" 

She put the question aside with a lit- 
tle wave of the hand. 

"You are curious," she said, mis- 
chievously. 

Julius bit his lip. He was curious, 
and this was not the first time she had 
foiled him. 

"You want much to know just who 
and what I am," she went on. "You 
have made a dozen attempts to find 
out. Tell me why. What difference 
would it make to you? If 1 were to 
tell you that I am a niece of the Gov- 
ernor of Kentucky; mind I don't say 
that I am," she continued, as Julius 
made a gesture of surprise. "I say if 
I were to tell you so, and add that I am 
mistress of an independent fortune, 
would that enhance my value in your 
eves?" 



••euppose, on tne contrary," sub 
went on impetuously, and with a cer- 
tain warmth of tone that seemed to 
spring from injured pride, "I were to 
tell you that I am an orphan without 
fortune; that I had just money enough 
to carry me through the Conservatory 
at Paris, and that I am hoping and ex- 
pecting to make my living by teaching 
music, would that lower me in your 
regard?" 

Julius still remained silent, perhaps 
a little abashed by the results of his 
own temerity. 

"I see that I have embarrassed you," 
she said, laughing. "I shall not insist 
upon an answer. I leave you to adopt 
whichever hyj>othesis best suits you." 

She gathered up her shawl and book 
as she spoke, and made a motion to 
rise, but Julius laid a detaining hand 
upon her arm. 

"No, no, you mustn't go yet," he 
exclaimed and he fancied a dewiness 
in her eyes as she turned them toward 
him, which touched him inexpressibly. 
"I am embarrassed, not so much by 
your hypothesis as by something in 
myself. Since you leave me to choose 
between these hypotheses, I will take 
the latter. You are, then, an orphan 
without fortune, hoping and expecting 
to make your living by teaching music. 
To prove to you how little I deserve 
your implied reproach, I will confess 
what I should have concealed from the 
Governor's niece. Miss Elton, I adore 
you!" 

"Mr. Hilder!" she exclaimed, spring- 
ing to her feet, with flashing eyes. 

"Well," he said, quietly, "you 
challenged me." 

"You are impertinent, sir," and she 
swept away with dignity. 

She remained closely shut in her own 
cabin during the remainder of the af- 
ternoon and until quite late in the 
morning, when Julius, who had main- 
tained an anxious and impatient watch 
on deck, found her in the saloon sip- 
ping a cup of tea and nibbling a piece 
of toast by way of breakfast. 

"I hope you have forgiven me," he 
said, taking a seat beside her. 

"But I have not," she answered with 
decision. 

"Which'have I offended — the Gov- 
ernor's niece or the orphan music 
teacher?" he asked with a saucy smile. 

"Both. It was a daring imperti- 
nence to one and a piece of insolence 
toward the other." 

"Well, I don't see what I'm to do 
about it. It isn't the sort of thing you 
can expect a man to take back." 

"No," she said, looking absently in- 
to her cup, then suddenly realizing 
that this was not just what she should 
have said, she hurried to add, amid 
a confusion of blushes: "That is, of 
course, you must take it back; at least 
you mustn't say anything more about 
it." 

"Never?" 

"Never." 

"But that's impossible." 

"Mr. Hilder." 

"Miss Elton." 

4 T think we've had enough of this, 
it was my fault; I am willing to admit 
that. It was wretched taste on my 
nark and I've suffered all sorts of 



~umgs in consequence." She waved 
her hand toward her cabin as she spoke, 
indicating that it was thus her hours 
of retirement were spent. "Let me go 
back to the question," she continued. 
"You asked me whether there was any- 
body to make it pleasant for me on 
shore. There was no reason but my 
own perversity why 1 should not have 
answered at once. No, nobody that I 
am at all sure will care to make it 
pleasant for me. I have a dear old 
uncle who has always been very good 
to me; but when he hears how naughty 
I have been I don't know what he will 
say to me," and she puckered up her 
white forehead into an expression of 
compunctious perplexity. 

"Well," he said after waiting some 
time for her to resume, "is that all?" 

"That answers your question, does it 
not?" 

"My question as originally put — yes, 
I believe it does; but it has been so 
amplified that you can hardly expect 
me to be satisfied with that meager 
answer." 

"Amplified! I don't understand." 
"These two ingenious hypotheses, for 
instance — were they both pure fiction, 
or which was the true statement." 

"Both pure inventions," she return- 
ed, laughing and blushing as:ain. "I 
am not that brilliant creature, a gov- 
ernor's niece, nor yet that more useful 
and respectable one, a teacher of 
music. The governor's niece was just 
a bit of satire. I traveled a few weeks 
once in company with such a per- 
son, and the constant iteration with 
which she dwelt upon her title, and the 
amount of respect it seemed to inspire 
in the minds of those who heard it, 
gave me the impression that it was the 
highest rank an unmarried women 
could attain in America. I think the 
impression must be well founded, too, 
as I noticed it produced quite an effect 
upon you." 

"Not the effect you imagine. I was 
startled for a moment, I confess, but 
simply because of a slight coinci- 
dence." 

"A coincidence! Do you know her?" 
and a hot blush and a look of conster- 
nation sat together upon the fresh, 
young face of Miss Elton. 

"Never saw her; but there was a 
plot to make me cross the ocean with 
such a person and a lot of other wo- 
men, which 1 defeated by running 
away." 

"Oh! you ran away?" she breath- 
ed the words out in a startled half- 
whisper. 

"Yes, they went in a Cunarder, and 
my friend Drake and I slipped off and 
took the steamer at Havre." 

She looked at him with widely-open- 
ed eyes for a moment, during which 
he decided for the fiftieth time that the 
eyes were brown and not deep gray, 
as he had decided the other fifty 
times. 

"Why did you run away?" she asked 
after a moment's consideration. 

"Well, you see, I was with my sis- 
ter and two or three others; just a nice 
little party, all the ladies married, so a 
fellow didn't always have to be on par- 
ade. We had a jolly, comfortable time 
«-*J2 we grot to Paris on our wav home. 



and there sister tooK it into ner neaa 
to join a woman who had been roaming 
about the continent with a lot of girls 
on an extensive husband hunt — one of 
those women who never look at a sin- 
gle man without picturing him to her- 
self walking up the aisle with a white 
tie, with half a dozen groomsmen at 
his back, and who has always just the 
girl on hand who will walk up the oth- 
er aisle in white satin and meet him 
demurely at the altar. I had no fancy 
for being cooped on a steamer with 
such an experienced angler." 

"And the governor's niece was one 
of the girls? 

"Some governor's niece, so I heard. 
Now, what is the naughty thing you've 
been doing? Come, confidence for 
confidence." 

For sole answer, however, Miss Elton 
leaned back in her chair and began to 
laugh immoderately. Julius looked at 
her for some moments, then catching 
the infection, began to laugh too, much 
to the edification of the waiters, who 
were beginning their preparations for 
dinner. 

"I have no doubt it's awfully funny," 
he added, as she wiped the tears from 
her cheeks, "but I could enjoy it more 
if I knew just the point of view from 
which you see it." 

"Perhaps you could," she replied 
demurely, checking an impulse to laugh 
again. "We seem to be in the way; 
! suppose we move." 

"Come on deck," he exclaimed, ris- 
ing with alacrity and offering his arm. 

"Thank you, no; I don't feel quite 
equal to the deck this morning." 

She made him a ceremonious obei- 
sance, and her cabin door had closed 
; behind her before he had fully realized 
her purpose. 

She did not reappear during the day. 
: It was their last day at sea and Julius 
j was in despair. The jetties' light was 
in sight when he retired, and when he 
awoke in the morning the smooth glid- 
ing motion of the ship announced that 
they were in the river. He was in no 
haste to see the low shores of the Mis- 
sissippi, in fact he felt at the moment 
that he hated them; yet he sprang up, 
dressed with dispatch and mounted to 
the deck. Everybody was there but 
the one he sought. He stood near the 
companion way, watching furtively and 
starting at every step. She did not 
come, neither was she at the breakfast 
table. 

The hours glided by, the city rose in- 
to view, passengers came on deck with 
sachels and umbrellas, prepared for 
going ashore, but still that particular 
cabin-door remained closed. They 
were at the wharf, the staging was run 
out, and a dozen or mote citizens rush- 
ed across with that strange eagerness 
so inexplicable to the voyager whose 
eagerness impels him in the opposite 
direction. Julius, still maintaining his 
watch at the companion way, felt him- 
self gently put aside by a tall, gray- 
haired gentleman, in a brown coat, 
who went with careful haste down the 
brass steps. He heard a little cry, and 
peering through a skylight he saw Miss 
Elton in the arms of the gray-haired 
gentleman, her head pressed against 
the brown coat, and her eyes upturned 



to meet ms spectaciea gaze. 

"Her uncle!" he muttered peevishly, 
•'who the devil is he anyhow?" 

He moved discontentedly to the side 
and looked at the people hurrying 
ashore. 

"Hello, Julius! Going to spend the 
night aboard?" cried Drake coming 
up with a duly chalked valise in each 
hand. 

"Oh, Mr. Hilder," exclaimed another 
and more musical voice. "Wait, uncle, 
I must introduce you; Mr. Hilder has 
been very kind to me." 

"What, Julius! Why, my dear boy, 
how d'ye? My wife wrote me you were 
coming over with her." His hand was 
grasped with a hearty pressure, and he 
found himself gazing into the specta- 
cled eyes of Mr. Smollett. 

"Oh, stupidest of stupids!" he ex- 
claimed as he thrust slippers and 
brushes into his valise in the privacy 
of his cabin. "Bagged by the Smollett 
ogress after all, by Jupiter!" he added 
as he gave a last twist to his fair mus- 
tache before the misty mirror. — New 
Orleans Times-Democrat. 



The Original "Dixie.' 



The New Orleans Times-Democrat gives the 
following as the correct original of the fam- 
ous "Dixie:" 

"I wish I was in de land of cotton, 

Old times dar am not forgotten; 

In Dixie land whar I was bawn in, 

Arly on a frosty mawnin'. 

"Ole missus marry Will de weaber; 
Will he was a gay deeeaber; 
When he puis his arm around her 
i He looked as fierce as a forty-pounder. 

"His face was sharp as a butcher's cleaber, 
But dat didn't seem a bit to greab 'er; 
Will run away, missus took a decline, 
Her face was de color ob de bacon rine. 

: "While missus libbed she libbed in olober, 
When she died she died all ober; 
How could she act de foolish part 
An' marry a man to broke her heart? 

"Buckwheat cakes an' cawn-meal batter 
Makes you fat, or little fatter; 
Here's a health to de nex' ole missus, 
An' all degals as wants to kiss us. 

"Now if you want to dribe away sorrow 
Come an' hear dis song to-morrow; 
. Den hoe it down an' scratch de grabbel, 
To Dixie land I'm bound to trabbel." 

CHORUS. 
"I wish I was in Dixie, hooray, hooray I 
In Dixie's land 
; We'll take our stand. 

To live an' die in Dixie; 
Away, away, away down Souf in Dixie; 
Away, away, away down Souf io Dixie 1" 



A ROMANCE OF BROADWAY. 



"I have earned three shillings, 
York, this blessed afternoon!" I ex- 
claimed, with ill-sappressed exultation, 
as I threw down my pen, which I had 
been diligently using for four hours (I 
was penning "an article" for a certain 
"monthly," dear reader), pushed my 
closely-written manuscripts from me, 
and took a yellow cigar from my hat, 
which I have made my chief pocket 
since my fifth year, the time, I believe, 
when my discriminating parents ex- 
changed my infant cap for the manly 
castor. Three York shillings have I 
made this blessed day, heaven be thank- 
ed, and now I can conscientiously take 
a little "ease in mine inn!' Whereupon 
I ignited my cigar with a self-enkind- 
ling apparatus, a gift from my consid- 
erate landlady — pray heaven she 
fifcars-es it not in her bill — to save her 



candles, and ascending tne ttiree steps 
to my window, I seated myself in my 
accustomed chair, and forthwith pro- 
ceeded to speculate on things external. 
It was that calm, lovely time, which is 
wont to usher in the twilight of a sum- 
mer evening. The roll of wheels in 
Broadway beneath me was ceaseless. 
Bright forms flashed by in gay car- 
riages! The happy, the gallant, the 
beautiful, were all forth to take, the 
air on the fashionable evening drive! 
Why was I not with the cavalcade? 
Where was my Rosinante? Where was 
my "establishment?" Echo answered 
"where?" I puffed away silently and 
vigorously for a few seconds, as these 
mental queries assailed me; and, bless- 
ed soother of the troubled, oh, in- 
comparable cigar! my philosophy re- 
turned. 

Diagonally opposite to my window 
stands one of the proudest structures 
on Broadway. It is costly with stone 
and marble, lofty porticos and colon- 
nades. The edifice first attracted my 
attention by its architectural beauty, 
and eventually fixed it by a mystery, 
that seemed, to my curious eye, to be 
surrounding one of its inmates! 

A lady of dazzling beauty was an in- 
mate of that mansion, and, for aught I 
know to the contrary, its only inmate. 
Every afternoon, arrayed in simple 
white, with a flower or two in her hair, 
she was seated at the drawing room 
window, gazing out upon the gay spec- 
tacle Broadway presents of a pleasant 
afternoon. I saw her the first moment 
I took possession of my dormant nook, 
and was struck with her surprising 
loveliness. Every evening I paid dis- 
tant homage to her beauty. Dare a 
poor scribbler, a mere penny-a-liner, 
aspire to a nearer approach to such a 
divinity, enshrined in dollars and 
cents? No! I worshiped like a publi- 
can, afar off. "Tis distance lends en- 
chantment to the view." But she was 
not destined to be worshiped by all. 
One afternoon she was at the window, 
with a gilt-leaved volume in her hand, 
when a gentleman of the most grace- 
ful bearing rode past my window. He 
was well mounted and sat upon his 
horse like an Arabian! He was what 
the boarding school misses would call 
an elegant fellow! a well-bred man 
of the world, a remarkably handsome 
man! Tall, with a fine oval face, a 
black, penetrating eye, and a mustache 
upon his lip, together with a fine figure 
and the most perfect address, he was, 
what I should term, a captivating man. 
His air, and a certain indescribable 
comme il faut, bespoke him a gentle- 
man. As he came opposite her window 
his eye, as he turned it thither, became 
fascinated by her beauty! How much 
lovelier a really lovely creature ap- 
pears when seen through 'plate glass!' 
Involuntarily he drew in his spirited 
horse, and raised his hat! The action, 
the manner, and the grace, were inim- 
itable. At this unguarded moment the 
'hind wheel of a rumbling omnibus 
struck his horse in the chest. The an- 
imal reared high, and would have fall- 
en backward upon his rider, had he 
not with wonderful presence of mind 
stepped quietly and gracefully out of 
the stirruus to the oavement, as the 



horse, losing his balance, fen violently 
on his side. The lady, who had wit- 
nessed with surprise the involuntary 
homage of the stranger, for such, from 
her manner of receiving it, he evident- 
ly was to her, started from her seat 
and screamed convulsively. The next 
moment he had secured and remount- 
ed his horse, which was only slightly 
injured by the fall, acknowledged the 
interest taken in his mischance by the 
fair being who had been its innocent 
cause (unless beauty were a crime) by 
another bow, and rode slowly and com- 
posedly onward, as if nothing unusual 
had occurred. The next evening the 
carriage was at the door of the man- 
sion. The liveried footman was stand- 
ing with the steps down, and the han- 
dle of the door in his hand. The 
coachman was on the box. I was, as 
usual, at my window. The street door 
opened, and with a light step the grace- 
ful form of my heroine came forth and 
descended to the carriage. At that mo- 
ment (some men are surely born under 
the auspices of more indulgent stars 
than others) the stranger rode up and 
bowed with ineffable grace, and (bless- 
ed encounter that, with the omnibus 
wheel) his bow was acknowledged by 
an inclination of the superb head, and 
a smile that would make a man of any 
soul seek accidents "in the cannon's 
mouth." He rode slowly forward and 
in a few seconds the carriage took the 
same direction. There are no infer- 
ences to be drawn from this; reader. 
All the other carriages passed the same 
route. It was the customary one! At 
the melting of twilight into night, the 
throng of drivers and riders repassed. 
The "lady's" carriage (it was a lan- 
dau and the top was thrown back) 
came last of all! The cavalier was 
riding beside it! He dismounted as it 
drew up before the door, assisted her 
to the pave, and took his leave. For 
several afternoons successively, the 
gentleman's appearance was simulta- 
neous with that of the lady at her car- 
riage. 

One evening they were quite late 
in returning. Finally, the landau 
drew up before the door. It was too 
dark to see faces, but I Qpuld have 
sworn that the equestrian was not the 
stranger! No! He dismounted, open- 
ed the door of the carriage, and the 
gentleman and lady descended! The 
footman had rode his horse, while he, 
happy man, occupied a seat by the side 
of the fair one! I watched the progress 
of this amour for several days, and 
still the stranger had never entered the 
house. One day, however, about 3 
o'clock, 1 saw him lounging past, with 
that ease and self possession which 
characterized him. He passed and re- 
passed the house two or three times, 
and then rather hastily ascending the 
steps, pulled the bell. The next mo- 
ment he was admitted, and disappeared 
from my sight. But only for a mo- 
ment , reader! An attic hath its ad- 
vantages! The blinds of the drawing 
room were drawn, and impervious to 
any glance from the street; but the 
leaves were turned so as to admit the 
light of heaven and my own gaze! I 
could see through the spaces directly 
down into the room as distinctly as if 



mere was no oostruction. xnis z give 
as a hint to all concerned who have re- 
volving leaves to their Venetian blinds. 
Attic gentlemen are much editied there- 
by! The next moment he was in the 
room, his hand on his heart — another, 
and I saw him at her feet! Sir — would 
that I had language to paint you the 
scene! Lady — I then learned the "art 
of love!" I shall have confidence, I 
have had so good a pattern, when I go 
to make my declaration! The decla- 
ration, the confession, the acceptance; 
all passed beneath me most edifyingly. 
Then came the labial seal that made 
his bliss secure. By his animated ges- 
tures, I could see that he was urging 
her to some sudden step. She at first 
appeared to be reluctant, but gradually 
becoming more placable, yielded. The 
landau was at the door in ten minutes. 
They came out arm in arm and entered 
it! 1 could hear the order to the coach- 
man: "Drive to St. John's Church!" 
"An elopement," thought I. "Having 
been at the breaking cover, I will be in 
at the death!" and taking my hat and 
gloves, I descended, as if I carried a 
policy of life insurance in my pocket, 
the long flights of stairs to the street, 
bolted out of the front door, and fol- 
lowed the landau, which I discerned 
just turning the corner of Canal street. 
I followed full fast on foot. I eschew 
omnibuses. They are vulgar! When 
I arrived at church the carriage was 
before it, and the "happy pair," al- 
ready joined together, were just cross- 
ing the trottoir to re-enter it! The 
grinning footman who had legally wit- 
nessed the ceremony, followed them. 

The next day, about noon, a capa- 
cious family carriage rolled up to the 
door of the mansion, followed by a ba- 
rouche with servants and baggage. 
First descended an elderly gentleman, 
who cast his eyes over the building, to 
see if it stood where it did when he left 
for the Springs. Then came, one after 
another, two beautiful girls, then a 
handsome young man. "How glad I 
am to get home again," exclaimed one 
of the young ladies, running up the 
steps to the door. "I wonder where 
Jane is that she does not meet us?" 

The sylph rang the bell as she spoke. 
I could see down through the blinds 
into the drawing room. There was a 
scene! 

The gentleman was for going to the 
door, and the lady, his bride, was try- 
ing to prevent him. "You shan't!" 
"I will!" "I say you shan't!" "Isay 
I will!" were interchanged as certainly 
between the parties as if I could hear 
the words. The gentleman, or rather 
husband prevailed. I saw him leave 
the room, and the next moment open 
the street door. The young ladies 
started back in the presence of the new 
footman. The old gentleman, who was 
now at the door, inquired as he saw 
him, loud enough for me to hear, "Who 
in the devil's name are you, sir?" 
. "I have the honor to be your son-in- 
law." 

"The devil you have! and who may 
you have the honor to be?" 

"The Count L y," with a bow of 

ineffable condescension. 

"You are an impostor, sir!" 

"Here is your eldest daughter, my 



wire," replied, me newiy maae nus- 
band, taking by the hand his lovely 
bride who had come imploringly for- 
ward when the disturbance reached 
her ears. "Here is my wife, your 
daughter." 

"You are mistaken, sir, she is my 
housekeeper!" 

A scene followed that cannot be de- 
scribed. The nobleman had married 
the gentleman's housekeeper. She had 
spread the snare, and like many a 
wiser fool he had fallen into it. 

Half an hour afterwards a hack drove 
to the servant's side door, and my he- 
roine came forth, closely veiled, with 
bag and baggage, and drove away. 
The Count, for such he was, I saw no 
more! I saw his name gazetted a day 
or two after as a passenger on a packet 
ship that sailed for Havre. How he es- 
caped from the mansion remaineth yet 
a mysteiy. — Every Other Saturday. 

■ i m 

The Way of the World. 

The hands of the King are soft and fair; 

They never knew labor's stain, 
The hands of the robber redly wear 

The bloody brand of Cain. 
But the hands of the man are hard and scar- 
red 

With the scars of toil and pain. 

The slaves of Pilate have washed his hands 

As white as a king's may be. 
Barabbas with wrists unfettered stands, 

For the world has mnde him free. 
But thy palms toil-worn by naiis are torn, 

O Christ, on Calvary I 
—James Jeffrey in the Roche Independent. 



Time to Plant the Seed. 



De ole turkey gobbler hab er 'gun fur ter 
strut, 
Time fur de plantin' o' de seeds: 
An' whut a mighty shine dat scoun'rel he 
ken cut, 
Time fur de plantin' o' de seeds. 

He bows his ole naik when de domenicker 
sings, 
Time fur de plantin' o' de seeds; 
An' he marks on de groun' wid de tips o' his 
wings, 
Time fur de plantin' o' de seeds. 

Comeer hitch up yer team dar an' break up 

de groun'; 
Come er ole man, shake dem jints er roun'. 
Go er 'long Andy, go 'long Spence, 
An' chop out de bushes from de corner o* de 

fence. 

Gobbler's too proud fur ter eat er black bug, 

Time furde plantin' o' de seeds; 
His voice soun's lack er pourin' sunthin' from 
a jug, 
Time furde plantin' o' de seeds. 

— Opie Read. 



MAY'S SACRIFICE. 



"My last hope rests in you,. May." 

"In me, father?" 

May Warren made answer in a tone 
of surprise, raising her sad, anxious 
eyes in her father's face. 

As if her gaze discomposed him, Mr. 
Warren turned his head, and his 
glasses wandered restlessly around the 
apartment. He was an old man, with 
a tall, spare figure, thin, gray hair, 
and was sitting in an old arm-chair by 
a table covered with papers, while his 
pretty daughter, May, sat beside him 
on an ottoman. She repeated the 
words: 

"In me, father?" 

"Yes," he replied, starting from a 
moment's abstraction. "Do you re- 
member Colonel Leighton, my dear?" 

"Colonel Leighton? An old man 



with a neavy Deara, paruy gray, anu 
pleasant blue eyes. He dined with us 
a few weeks ago. Yes, I remember 
him, father." 

"Not so very old, May — not so old as 
I am — and one of the finest men living. 
He is wealthy, very wealthy, too. 

He met his daughter's questioning 
gaze fully, now, as if he wished her to 
read something in his face. She kept 
her dark eyes fixed searchingly upon 
his countenance, the ebb and flow of 
the soft color upon her cheeks betray- 
ing the quick pulsations of her heart. 

"What do you mean, father?" she 
asked, at length. 

"I saw him last night. He offered to 
help me — save me, if " 

"If what, father?" 

"If I would give you to him." 

The words came hurriedly from Mr. 
Warren's lips, as if he feared that if 
he deliberated he should not be able to 
utter them at all. As they fell on his 
daughter's ear she started to her feet, 
pushing back her hair from her pale 
face, in a bewildered sort of way, as if 
she were half-stunned. 

"Marry me, father? Colonel Leigh- 
ton?" she cried, in a low tone. 

Mr. Warren took her hand and drew 
her down to her seat again. 

"May, Colonel Leighton will be a 
good husband to you. I have known 
him from boyhood, and understand 
perfectly his character and principles. 
He loves you — will be kind to you, and 
strive in every way to make you happy. 
And more — and more, May; he will save 
me from beggary!" 

He paused, but his child, with her 
face bowed upon her hands, made no 
reply — nor stirred. The mute distress 
that her attitude betokened was not 
unnoticed by him. 

"I do not force you to do this, May, 
remember; the matter is left entirely 
to your own choice. But you know 
what my wish is — what the alternative 
will be if you do not accept the offer." 

She knew only too well. Fully she 
realized how absolutely necessary the 
luxuries to which her father had been 
accustomed were to him. Absolute 
loss of possession did not seem the 
most dreadful thing in the world to 
her, but she knew what a wreck it 
would make of him. In her youth and 
strength the future would still be bright 
and full of hope to her; but how could 
he, with his aged frame and burden of 
sixty years, commence life anew? The 
hopeful thought that she could work 
for him and support him with his ac- 
customed comforts afforded her but a 
moment's comfort. To him, with his 
stubborn, aristocratic ideas, this would 
be the most severe trial of all — his del- 
icately reared, petted child laboring 
for his support. He would never be 
reconciled to it. There was no alter- 
native, she saw at a glance. Then, 
with a desperate effort to think calmly, 
she recalled the form of Colonel Leigh- 
ton. She remembered his bowed head 
and silvered beard, his dark, deeply 
furrowed face and fifty years. She 
could get no further. A younger face, 
with merry, azure eyes and tossing, 
sunny hair sprang up in strong con- 
trast. Stretching out her hands to her 
if-ihsr. as if for nitv. she cried out: 



"1 cannot — oh, tamer, x cannon-- 

The old man sank back with a groan. 

"Lost — then I am lost!" he cried, 
shuddering. 

There were no reproaches, only those 
bitter words and that despairing atti- 
tude. White and tearless she sat at 
his feet, the agonv of her heart written 
on her face. The wild, desperate 
thought that the sacrifice was possible 
occurred to her. 

"Father, dear father!" 

He raised his head, whitened with the 
frosts of his sixty winters, and looked 
at her with a gleam of hope in his 
sunken eyes. She crept into his arms, 
as she had done when a child, and laid 
her soft cheek against his wrinkled 
brow. 

"You know that I love you, father," 
she said. "I can never remember you 
but as kind, tender and forbearing with 
me. Your heart has been my home all 
my life. I will work, beg, suffer for 
you — I will die for you — oh, how will- 
ingly, if need be! But that — oh, father, 
you do not know what it is that you 
ask!" 

He did not speak, but a moan broke 
uncontrollably from his lips as he 
rested his head upon her shoulder. 
The struggle in her heart sent dark, 
shadowy waves across her face. Could 
she — could she? 

"Father," she whispered, hurriedly, 
"let me go now. I will see you again 
— answer you to-morrow." And she 
left him. 

He could not see her face in the gath- 
ering darkness, only a glimpse of 
something white, but he felt the quiver 
of her lips as she bent to kiss him, and 
reached out his arms to embrace her, 
but she was gone. 

"Heaven pity me!" The words came 
like a wail from her lips. She was 
alone in her chamber, flung prostrate 
upon a low couch, with her face hid in 
the cushions. The sound of the rust- 
ling foliage of the garden, and the 
chirping of the birds came in through 
the open window with the damp evening 
breeze, and the pale light of the rising 
moon filled the room with a soft radi- 
ance, but she was unconscious of every- 
thing but her misery. The house was 
so quiet that the sound of a footstep 
crossing the hall below fell upon her 
ear and aroused her to a momentary 
interest. She heard a door open— the 
library door — and then a voice uttered 
a few words of commonplace greeting. 
She remembered it well, and sprang to 
her feet with a desperate, insane 
thought of flight. But the door closed, 
the house was still again, and she was 
calmer. 

She crossed the room listlessly and 
drew back the curtains of the window. 
The scene without was beautiful. The 
moonlight lay broadly on the garden, 
turning to silver the tops of the trees 
and making the little lake beyond look 
like a great white pearl. Gazing ear- 
nestly downward, she saw a tall, 
shadowy figure standing beneath the 
shade of the old elm. With a low cry 
she sprang from the room and a mo- 
ment later stood beside her lover. 

"Come at last, my treasure," cried 
Mark Winchester, folding her in his 
arms. She remained leaning passiyely 



against his breast, while ne presseu 
passionate kisses upon her forehead, 
cheeks and lips. 

"Why have you made me wait so 
long, darling?" he said, softly, and 
taking both her slender hands in one 
of his, he pressed them to his lips. 
"Why, how cold you are! How you 
tremble!" he continued, as she clung 
to him. "What is the matter, May?" 

"I waited because I dreaded to meet 
you, Mark." 

"Why? What do you mean?" 

And, brokenly, through her tears and 
sobs, she told him all. He did not 
speak or stir while she was talking, 
and when she had finished there was a 
long silence. She lacked courage to 
say more — he would not ask. She re- 
peated the last words. "And to-mor- 
row I must give him my answer." 
Still he did not speak. 

She looked up at him. In the dim 
light she could see his rigid, agonized 
face, white lips and gleaming eyes. 
She stole her arms about his neck, and 
drew his forehead down to her lips. 

"Speak to me, Mark; say that you do 
not blame me." 

He knew then that she had decided, 
and what that decision was. 

"And you will leave me, May, and 
marry that old man?" 

"Heaven pity me, Mark, for I must. 
I will become his wife, and will be true 
and faithful to him, for he will be kind 
and true to me. You will hear of me 
thus, and when you do, remember my 
words, Mark, that you have my heart." 

"I will remember, May. God help 
us both, for I shall never forget you. 
They shall bury me with this upon my 
heart." 

And he drew a tress of soft brown 
hair from his bosom. 

For a moment more — one little pre- 
cious moment — he held her against his 
heart and then kissed her, put her 
from him, and was gone. 

For a moment she stood alone under 
the trees, with clasped hands and face 
upraised to the quiet sky, and then she 
turned and walked silently toward the 
house. A bright light from the library 
window streamed down on her, and as 
she looked up she saw the shadow of a 
bowed figure falling across the curtain. 

"Father, you are saved!" she mur- 
mured. 

A hand was laid suddenly on her 
arm, and she started with a low cry. 

"Good evening. Miss May," said Col- 
onel Leigh ton. "I have been seeking 
you." 

She bowed, and stood silently before 
him with a calm, downcast face. 

"I have been talking with your fath- 
er," he continued, carelessly pulling a 
rose from a bush near them. "He told 
me that you promised to think of my 
proposal, and let us know what your 
decision is to-morrow. Is there any- 
thing I can say which will influence 
you to form that conclusion in my 
favor?" 

"You can say nothing which will in- 
fluence me in the least Colonel Leigh- 
ton. As my father has said, you shall 
have my answer to-morrow." 

He glanced at the young face, so sad 
in its calm dignity, and then looked 
down at his fingers again, which were 



Z~zt roaring 10 pieces tne dioseo^i s.z 
held and allowing the crimson petals 
to fall at his feet as if they were tho 
fragments of the heart he was breaking. 

In the long silence that followed she 
glanced up at him once, with the 
thought of flinging herself upon his 
mercy by giving him her confidence; 
but the stern expression of his face re- 
pelled her. 

"Miss May," he said suddenly, "you 
are averse to this marriage." 

His tone aided in rendering his 
words an assertion. She was startled, 
but replied quietly, "Do you think so?" 

"I must be blind if I could think 
otherwise," he continued, with sudden 
energy. "May Warren, you know that 
you hate me — that you would rather 
die than become my wife, were it not 
for your father's sake." 

Before she realized what she was do- 
ing the monosyllable "yes" slipped 
from her lips. 

"And in doing this, do you realize 
how you would wrong us both?" 

She was silent. 

"It shall never be. I shall never call 
you my wife, knowing that you do not 
love me — that your heart is not in my 
keeping. I will not tell you of my 
hopes, how I have dreamed that my 
last days would be my happiest ones — 
it would not interest you. Now lhave 
only to say that you are as free as if I 
had never seen your sweet face." 

He paused for a reply, but she made 
none. Bewildered by her position, she 
did not know what to say. ' 

"I know that I have only myself to 
reproach," he went on. "My motive 
in offering your father my assistance 
was a purely selfish one. The conse- 
quences are only what I deserve. I 
had no thought of the long years dur- 
ing which he had been my true and 
faithful friend, but cruelly took advan- 
tage of his position to gain my own 
ends. Yes, I am properly punished." 

There was a bitterness in his tone, a 
despondency in his attitude, that great- 
ly changed his accustomed dignified 
composure of manner. Half uncon- 
scious of what she did, only sensible 
of the pity she felt for him, the young 
girl put her hand upon his arm and 
then said, softly: 

"Forgive me." 

"Forgive me, rather, my child," he 
said, gently, taking the little hand in 
one of his, "for the misery I have 
caused you. I should have known that 
our paths in life could never be one. 
But good-night, I will not detain you." 

She did not shrink from him as he 
bent down to kiss her forehead with 
his last words. He stepped aside to 
allow her free passage to the house, 
but she did not move. 

"You are thinking of your father," 
he said. "Do not be distressed on hia 
account. Remember me in your pray- 
ers to-night, and sleep sweetly. It is 
all I ask." 

He did not wait to hear her fervent 
"God bless you!" or witness her burst 
of joyful tears, but quickly left her. 

The morning sunshine streamed 
boldly into the apartment of old Mr. 
Warren, where he lay in the heavy 
sleep of mental and physical exhaust- 
inn The forenoon was far advanced 



IT 



when a servant aroused him, intorming 
him that Colonel Leighton waited him 
in the library. Making a hasty toilet, 
the old man left his chamber and went 
to join his friend. The gentlemen met 
cordially, and Colonel Leighton im- 
mediately requested that May might be 
sent for. They waited but a few min- 
utes before the door swung noiselessly 
open, and, wearing a white morning 
robe, the young girl entered. At a 
motion from her father she sat down 
upon a low seat at his feet, and then 
glanced up with a confiding smile at 
Colonel Leighton, who stood leanino- 
against the mantelpiece with an ex- 
pression half-sad, half-admiring. 

"We are waiting for your answer, 
May," said Mr. Warren, quietly. 

"I will leave the matter entirely in 
Colonel Leigh ton's hands," she replied. 

The old man glanced perplexedly 
from her to his friend. Colonel Leigh- 
ton stepped forward. 

"My old friend, James Warren," he 
said, "I met your daughter last night 
and talked with her. I discovered with 
what feelings she regarded a marriage 
with me, and cannot allow the sacrifice 
she would make for your sake. I will 
never marry her; she is free. And 
now I have to ask your pardon for the 
unmanly way in which I have taken 
advantage of your embarrassments and 
have come so near to destroying the 
happiness of your child. Every power 
of mine shall be exerted to its utmost 
to relieve you, and all the reward I ask 
is the knowledge that you and May do 
not despise me. Nay, nay, no thanks. 
I deserve rather to be scorned for the 
part I have acted. I have one favor to 
ask, old friend. Will you allow me to 
choose a husband for your daughter?" 

"You have my full and free permis- 
sion," replied Mr. Warner, smiling 
through his tears. "But I hope you 
will be more successful in your choice 
than I have been." 

"Never fear," said the Colonel, with 
a glance at May. Flinging open a door 
that led to another apartment, he 
called, "Now, my boy!" and Mark 
Winchester sprang into the room. 

"Behold your future son-in-law," 
said Colonel Leighton, and ere the old 
man could comprehend the scene, the 
young couple knelt for his blessing. 
At a motion from his friend, he gave it 
willingly, and never was there a hap- 
pier party. 

Through the interposition of his 
friend, Mr. Warren was saved from 
ruin and his daughter made happy. 
When May that morning asked for a 
solution to the problem of Colonel 
Leighton' s knowledge of Mark, he re- 
plied, "I did not wait half an hour in 
the garden to no purpose, little one." 
And she understood that he had over- 
head her conversation with her lover. 
Through his influence, Mark's talents 
as an artist became known to the 
world, and a few years afterward he 
became a popular painter and a wealthy 
man; and, out of gratitude to his ben- 
efactor, he christened his first-born son 
Edwin Leighton Winchester. 



Forty-one West 
prohibit whisky. 



Virginia counties 



The Night-Blooming Flower. 

There was a little night-blooming' flower, 

That thus spake to a bright-beaming star; 
"From earth's loneliest wild and lowliest 
bower, 

I see thy brilliant orb from afar; 
But thou from thy home of radiancy 

Canst not, in thy gorgeousness, descry 
One so insignificant, little as me— 

So diminutive and small am I." 

The pure and respondent star replied, 

In tenderest love; "0, meek flower of earth, 
Thou art little, but do not thyself deride 

As one possessing no merit, worth; 
Thy Maker designs thee, a beauty and charm; 

Although so far distant from me thou art 
That I cannot thy roseate petals warm 

With smiles nor gaze down into thy heart. 

"There is One, without whose kind, loving 
care 
A sparrow cannot fall to the ground, 
Has clothed the lilies in robes more rare 
Than earth's monarchs in all their glory 
crowned! 
Though thou bloomest in darkness of the 
night, 
With no eye to greet thee— none to behold— 
tt is in God, thy Creator's sight. 
That thou dost thine exquisite charms un- 
fold 1" 

Thus many pine in their solitude 

For recognition and honors from men, 
And sigh, with a restless wish to be viewed 

And loved and admired by human ken, 
Spend their lives in efforts fruitless imd vain 

To gain renown while on earthly sod, 
Who, freely as light and air, could obtain 

The higher honors that come from God! 
—James Homer Kennedy. 



THE HAUNTED CORRIDOR. 



"I don't believe a word of it!" said 
Aunt Rebecca. 

The wine-like glow of sunset yet illu- 
mined the great bay window; but the 
rest of the apartment was already en- 
shrouded in the gray shadows of the 
night, in whose misty indistinctness 
the huge chairs of carved oak looked 
like gigantic monsters from some for- 
eign shore. 

"I don't believe a word of it!" re- 
peated Aunt Rebecca, with more em- 
phasis than before. "A ghost story, 
indeed!" 

"Tell me about it, Violet," said 
young Hazlewood. 

"It is not much of a story," said 
Violet, "only years ago, long before 
my great grandpapa built this house, 
the site was all one unbroken wood, 
and there was a tradition that a beau- 
tiful girl was murdered by her lover. 
Her grave, they said, was beneath the 
foundations of the house, but I scarce- 
ly credit this part of the legend." 

"Of course not," interrupted Miss 
Rebecca, with a toss of her false 
curls. "I have no patience with the 
relics of superstition." 

"What are you looking for aunt? 
Have you dropped anything? Shall I 
call for Harris to bring a candle?" 
asked Violet, a moment afterward 
coming to her aunt's side. 

"Nothing, nothing," said Miss Re- 
becca, with a little embarrassment in 
her voice. "Come — don't stay here 
any longer in the biting cold, unless 
you both want a week's medicine and 
doctor's visits." 

"It is not cold, Aunt Rebecca," 
pleaded Violet, "and the starlight is so 
beautiful on the stone pavement." 

But a peremptory summons from 
Colonel Orme himself, who had just 
waked from a comfortable nap beside 
*V,« o-lovBimr fire in the librarv to a aort 



of vague wonder as to "where Kebecca 
and the young people could possibly 
be," speedily settled the matter. 

"Never mind, Violet," whispered 
Charles Hazel wood; "by-and-by, when 
your father has gone to his room and 
Aunt Rebecca is busy with her curl 
papers in her own special dormitory, 
we can have a starlight stroll through 
the ghost's territory!" 

Violet gave him an arch glance as 
she tripped after Aunt Rebecca into the 
hall which led to Colonel Orme's bril- 
liantly-lighted library. 

"I wish Captain Hazel wood wouldn't 
remain out there," said Aunt Rebecca, 
anxiously. "He will catch his death 
of cold; and, besides — " 

"Besides what, Aunt Rebecca?" 

"Violet," said the maiden lady, "I 
wish you would go down and see if the 
housekeeper has prepared that posset 
for my sore throat, that's a good girl. 
I think I shall go to bed. 
~ Violet went to execute her aunt's be- 
hests. 

How peacefully the distant hills and 
valleys slept in their snowy mantles 
that glorious December night! It re- 
minded one of a lovely painting exe- 
cuted with brushes dipped in liquid 
pearl, and shaded with pencils of 
glimmering silver! At least, so they 
seemed to Charles Hazlewood. But 
then Charles Hazelwood was in love. 

The tall old-fashioned clock in the 
hall was striking twelve, when Aunt 
Rebecca emerged from her door, tread- 
ing on tiptoe, and carrying a dim light 
in her hand. Now, Aunt Rebecca, 
in nodding false curls, lace coiffure, 
and 18-year-old style of dress was a 
very different sort of personage from 
Aunt Rebecca, with her head tied up 
in a silk handkerchief, her false curls 
laid aside, and a long white dressing 
robe enveloping her lank figure; and 
the latter was by no means the more 
prepossessing of the two. Probably 
some such consciousness swept across 
the good spinster's brain, for she shuf- 
fled with accelerated rapidity past the 
solemn eyes of the grave old family 
portraits on the wall. 

"I am sure I dropped them some- 
where here," she murmured, pausing 
in front of the bay-window. "How 
provoking! There goes my candle out! 
But I believe I can find them, however, 
the starlight is so bright. Mercy upon 
us! what 'is that! The ghost! the 
ghost!" 

Aunt Rebecca fled shrieking down 
the corridor, her hands clapped 
over her eyes, before which was im- 
printed the appalling vision of a tall 
figure sweeping past all in white, with 
a crimson stain at its pallid throat. 
The house was aroused into instantan- 
eous commotion, lights flashed into 
brightness at the various doors, and an 
eager circle of inquirers surrounded 
Aunt Rebecca. 

"It glided past me like a gust of 
wind!" she shrieked — "all in white, 
with that dreadful mark of blood upon 
its throat! It's a warning — I know it's 
a warning that I haven't long to live. 
Oh, what shall I do? What shall I 
do?" 

"But I don't understand what you 
were doinir in the ^host's corridor at 



this time of night," interrupted kjoi. 
Orme, staring at his sister. 

"Well, if you must know," said Miss 
Rebecca, with a little hysteric sob, "i 
dropped my false teeth there, just at 
dusk, and I didn't like to look for them 
there, with Violet and Captain Hazel- 
wood standing by; and so — and so — " 

"Oho! that's it, eh?" said Colonel 
Orme, laughing. "Upon my word, 
Sister Becky, you are rather over-par- 
ticular for a woman 50 years old." 

"Only 49, James," interrupted Miss 
Rebecca with a shrill accent of indig- 
nation. 

"But the ghost?" inquired young 
Hazelwood, who had just arrived on 
the scene of action, with rather a 
flushed brow and embarrassed air. 
Upon which Aunt Rebecca gave way to 
the combined influences of her broth- 
er's unkind remark and the fright of 
ghost-seeing, and fairly fainted, with- 
out further notice. According to the 
usual custom of womankind on such 
occasions, Colonel Orme and all the 
other gentlemen were hustled out into 
the hall, while the victim of the female 
officials was deluged with Eau de Col- 
ogne, stifled with burnt feathers, and 
vigorously treated with hot flannel. 

"She's coming to, poor dear crea- 
ture!" was the final verdict hurled at 
Colonel Orme through a crack in the 
door. 

"Well, I'm glad of it, I'm sure!" 
said the Colonel, dolorously, rubbing 
his hands, "for it's cold out here in the 
hall. Why, hilloa! is this you, my lit- 
tle Violet? What's the matter? You 
haven't seen a ghost, I hope?" 

"No, papa," faltered Violet; "but — " 

"Suppose we three adjourn into the 
library, Colonel Orme, and I will un- 
dertake the task of explanation," in- 
terrupted Charles Hazelwood, while 
Violet's cheeks grew like flame. 

"Well, may I venture to inquire what 
all this means?'' interrogated the be- 
wildered Colonel, when the library 
door was safely closed. 

"It means, sir," said Charles, laugh- 
ing, yet a little puzzled how to pro- 
ceed, "that Violet, your daughter, and 
I were just looking out at the stars, in 
the embrasure of the great hall win- 
dow, when we saw some one approach- 
ing with a light. Violet went to see 
what the apparition meant, when Miss 
Rebecca (whom it proved to be) drop- 
ped her candle, and ran shrieking 
away." 

"So Violet was the ghost, eh?" said 
the colonel, repressing a very strong 
inclination to laugh. 

"You see, papa," interposed the 
young lady, ' I wore my long cashmere 
mantle, for 1 was afraid of taking cold, 
and it was tied at the throat with red 
ribbons, and — " 

"And Aunt Rebecca took it for 
granted that you were the murdered 
heroine of our family ghost story," 
said the colonel, archly. "But allow 
me to ask you, young people, what 
you were so much interested in?" 

"Well, sir," said Hazlewood, "I had 

just asked her if she would'nt marry 

me — don't run away, Violet — and she 

£ t s fi4 'Yes' — that is, if I could win her 

father's consent." 




"And I would like to know what her 
father says to the proposition?" added 
the young officer laughingly detaining 
Violet, who was struggling to escape. 

"He says," answered Colonel Orme, 
"that your intrepidity in facing the 
ghost deserves some reward, and he 
likewise supposes that his daughter 
must be allowed to have her own way. 
Take her, Charley, and don't spoil her! 
No thanks now; but let me go and see 
after your Aunt Rebecca." 

"Papa!" whispered Violet, as 
rose, with his hand on the door. 

"Well, my dear?" 

"Don't tell Aunt Becky that — that 

"That you were the ghost? Just 
you please." 

And he went, chuckling, to inquire 
after his sister's health. There is no 
evidence that he ever did betray Vio- 
let's secret, but two things may be re- 
garded as settled facts in the records 
of Almwick Place — one is that Aunt 
Rebecca strenuously denies the exist- 
ence of ghosts, and abhors the very 
sight of her niece's white mantle with 
cherry trimmings; the other is that she 
is particularly careful never to pass 
through the solemn old haunted hall 
alone alter sunset! 



he 



as 



The Chief Magistrate Worried. 

A daring, graceful equestrienne daily 
attracts considerable attention by her 
maneuvers in the park south of the 
President's house, and the Chief Mag- 
istrate has noted her particularly. She 
has no hesitation in attempting feats 
of horsemanship that would create 
envy among professionals, and she ap- 
pears to be in every way capable of 
managing the handsome bay horse 
which she rides. It is not an unusual 
sight to see the animal going at a rate 
of speed rarely witnessed off a race 
track, and urged to renewed exertions 
by a persuasive whip. Since the pleasant 
weather set in the unknown rider has 
created considerable gossip as to her 
identity, both at the Executive Mansion 
and that portion of the Treasury De- 
partment which faces south. A groom 
on a handsome black horse stands sen- 
tinel during the feats of his young mis- 
tress, and when she and her animal 
are tired out with the exercise he gal- 
lops after her and escorts her through 
Executive avenue homeward. Fre- 
quent inquiries have been made by the 
President as to the young lady's his- 
tory, but thus far no one has been able 
to enlighten him. — The Capital, 

m i m — 

The Art of Ancient Wood Engraving. 

The art of wood working is the 
oldest of the means whereby man 
gratified his vanity or his eye, and the 
one which, even among savages, still 
maintains its former excellence. The 
New Zealander's club and the ancient 
Aztec's gods, the Hydah Indian's 
pipes and the paddles of the Polynesian 
canoe man are marvels of carving, exe- 
cuted with the rudest tools, or with bits 
of obsidian or sharpened shell, which 
the civilized workman would scarcely 
recognize as worthy of the name. The 
few travelers who have penetrated the 
mysterious Kaffir countrv of Central 



Asia describe entire villages, composed 
of wooden houses, elaborately carved 
on post and pillar. Until the fear of 
fire led to the use of iron and stone as 
building materials, and the disuse of 
wood reacted prejudically on wood 
carving, such towns were common in 
Europe, and remnants of them may 
still be seen in Blois, Chester and 
Coventry. Beams, brackets, door- 
heads and gable ends were effectively 
hewn with grotesque images of dem- 
ons, heraldic devices, and those saintly 
faces which still look down on us with 
a glance so benign. After the Re- 
naissance the great masters practiced 
carving in wood with such success that 
the chefs d'ceuvre of Wohlgemuth of 
Noremburg, Albert Durer, Ludwig 
Krug and Peter Flotner, whether in 
wood, or, as some of Properzia de' 
Rossi's are, in peach stones, can only 
be redeemed for a ransom which 
courtesy likens to that of kings. 

m i — ■ ■ 

Our Kind of a Man. 



The kind of a man for you and me I , 

He faces the world ui flincbingly 

Wiih smites, 8S Ions: as the wrong resists, 

With a knuckled faith and force-like fists; 

He Iive9 the life he is preaching of, 

And loves where is the most need of love; 

His voice is clear to the deaf man's ears, 

And his face sublime through the blind man's 

tears; 
The light shines out where the clouds were 

dim. 
And the widow's prayer goes up for him; 
The latch is clicked at the hovel door, 
And the sick man sees the sun once more, 
And out o'er the barren field he sees 
Spring blossoms and waving irees 
Feeling, as only the dying may, 
That God'6 own servant has come that way, 
Smoothing the path as it still winds on 
Throgh the golden gate where his loved have 

gone. 

The kind of a man for me and you, 
However little of worth we do. 
He credits full, and abides in trust 
That time will teach us how more is just. 
He walks abroad and meets all kinds 
Of querulous and uneasy minds, 
And, sympathizing, he shares the pain 
Of the'doubts that rack us, heart and brain, 
And, knowing this, as we grasp his hand, 
We are surely coming to understand! 
He looks on sin with pitying eyes — 
E'en as the Lord, since Paradise- 
Else, thould we read, though our sins should 

glow 
As scarlet thev should be white as snow 
And feeling still, with a grief half glad 
That the bad are as good as the good are bad, 
He strikes straight out for the Right— and he 
Is the kind of man for you and me! 

—James Whitcomb Riley. , 



HER AUNT'S CHOICE. 

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" 

"Yes, auntie." 

"Don't 'auntie' me in that listless, 
don't care sort of voice. 1 want your 
attention. I have something important 
to say to you." 

Elizabeth, or (as she was more fa- 
miliarly called by her five hundred 
dear friends) Beth Bruce, just percep- 
tibly raised her arched brows, and her 
curved lip curled. 

"lam all attention, auntie," she an- 
swered, and threw a more positive in- 
flection into her voice. 

"Lay down that book and wheel 
vour chair so that I can see your face. 
1 can never bear talking to people's 
backs." 

Beth dropped the paper covered nov- 
el she had been reading, and wheeled 
around her easy chair until she was 
face to face with Millicent Devereux. 



^r 



i WJ 



spinster.agea nity-nve,r>etns maierntu 
aunt and guardian, and her only living 
relative. 

Miss Millicent's face was thin, and 
seamed and furrowed by heavy lines. 
Her body matched her face in thinness 
and her iron grey hair was very thin 
also. 

She had a very sharp eye, however, 
and she looked at poor Beth so keenly 
that the girl's face flushed painfully. 

"Elizabeth Bruce " began Miss 

Millicent again and then paused. 

"Yes, auntie." 

"Don't interrupt me. I can't bear 
to be interrupted." 

She paused again; and this time Beth 
did not break the silence. 

"Elizabeth Bruce, you will be eight- 
en years old to-morrow. I suppose you 
are aware of that fact?" 

"Yes, auntie." 

"You will be eighteen years old, and 
I think it is high time that you were 
made aware of the terms of your fa- 
ther's will. Your father lacked wis- 
dom in many things, but he showed his 
good sense when he made his will. You 
were left a very comfortable fortune, 
Elizabeth." 

"Was I?" 

"About one hundred and twenty-five 
thousand dollars." 

"That is a large sum of money," said 
Beth, and her eyes glowed with a vague 
wonder. "I had no idea that I was so 
rich." 

"You will have as much more when 
Idle." 

"Oh, auntie!" cried Beth, and her 
eyes moistened. "Don't talk about 
dying in that sort of manner! I would 
rather be a beggar than lose you!" 

"Humph!" was Miss Devereux's 
comment, and she tossed her head. 
"You're helpless enough now, and 
the Lord knows what you'd be without 
money." 

"I suppose it would be inconvenient 
to be poor," said Beth, gravely. 

"Do you know what you are talking 
about, Elizabeth! Listen to me, pray." 

"Yes, auntie." 

"This money was left to you on cer- 
tain conditions. " 

"Oh!" 

"Your father premised that you 
would marry, though why I don't see. 
Women are a deal better off without 
husbands. I never had a husband." 

Beth made no reply to this, but a 
smile crept across her face, and the el- 
der woman continued: 

"With a man's poor judgment he 
concluded that at eighteen a woman 
ought to marry." 

"Oh, my!" said Beth, and she blush- 
ed slightly. 

"1, however, am to pick you out an 
eligible husband." 

"Yon, auntie?" 

"And why not? It has always been 
allowed that I have as much judgment 
as the average woman, and a deal more 
than the average man." 

"1 didn't mean that, auntie." 

"Well, then, please refrain from 
comment until I have finished. Your 
father had confidence in my judgment, 
and under the terms of the will I am to 
Dick out a husband for you. H you do 



not marry tne manoi my cnoice, xnaw 
the power, under the will, to divert 
the money, which would otherwise be 
yours, to a different purpose." 

"What?" 

"You heard what I said. But, of 
course, you can't object to the man that 
I select." 

"Oh, no," said Beth rather faintly — 
"of course not." 

"I have selected a husband for you," 
continued Miss Millicent. 

"You have?" 

*'A man who is the only one among 
the great number that I know who is 
qualified in every respect to be any wo- 
man' s husband." 

"Even yours?" faltered Beth. 

"Elizabeth!" cried Miss Millicent in 
her severest tone. 

"I beg pardon, auntie." 

"Never let me hear you make such a 
foolish remark as that again. As I 
said before, I have picked you out a 
husband." 

"What is his name?" 

"Deacon Uriah Armstrong — a Chris- 
tian man, moral in every respect, and 
with a fortune that is the equal of 
yours." 

"But, auntie, dear," cried the girl, 
•'the deacon is old enough to be my fa- 
ther, and he's ugly, and — well, not ex- 
actly that; but not fine looking, and I 
do not love him." 

"Nonsense, child. He is a God-fear- 
ing gentleman, and it shows great dis- 
respect on your part to speak of him as 
you do. He will call here this evening 
and will probably ask you to be his 
wife. After what I have told you, you 
will of course know better than to re- 
fuse." 

"But, auntie, -" 

"Silence, Elizabeth! I shall not lis- 
ten to any of your foolish objections. 
Deacon Armstrong is worthy to be any 
woman's husband, and he is the man 
of my choice. It is now half-past two 
o'clock. He will be here promptly at 
four o'clock. You can now retire and 
dress." 

Miss Millicent touched a little call- 
bell beside her, and waved her hand 
towards the door. 

Beth, with tears of ang.iy remon- 
strance gathering in her eyes, left the 
room, and Miss Millicent's maid en- 
tered to prepare her mistress's toilet. 

Beth dressed rapidly and by half-past 
three was ready to "receive." 

The expected visitor had not yet ar- 
rived, and to nerve herself for the com- 
ing ordeal, Beth slipped out into the 
garden and began to walk rapidly up 
and down the trim graveled walks. 

Just as the town beils were chiming 
four. Deacon Uriah Armsirong rang 
the bell of the Devereux mansion, and 
was admitted by the solemn-visaged 
butler, Peter. 

Miss Millicent Devereux, arrayed in 
the glossiest of black silks, sat in state 
in the drawing-room to receive the 
deacon. 

Ho bowed in response to the maiden 
lady's stately courtcs , and presented: 

"My nephew, Mr. E Igur Armstrong, 
of whom you have no doubt heard, and 
whom I took the liberty of bringing 



"You are welcome, Mr. Armstrong," 
said Millicent with a bow towards Ed- 
gar, and the butler got chairs for both 
gentlemen. 

"My niece, Elizabeth, is in the gar- 
den, I think. I will send for her." 

"Oh, don't trouble yourself," said 
the deacon, nervously. "Edgar can 
find her, no doubt. He is well acquaint- 
ed with the young lady?" 

"Ah, indeed!" said Miss Millicent, 
frowning and looking severely at the 
young man. "I can send the butler." 

"Oh, no," protested the deacon. 
"Don't trouble' yourself! Edgar can 
find her." 

"Very well," said Millicent, and she 
pointed towards a door in the rear of 
the room. "You can reach the garden, 
sir, through that door." 

Thus directed, Mr. Edgar Armstrong 
took his hat from the butler's hands 
and quickly vanished. 

Beth was at the extreme lower end 
of the garden with a very rueful ex- 
pression on her face. 

She saw the young man as he came 
rapidly down the central walk and ran 
eagerly to meet him. 

"Dear Edgar!" she cried, and put 
both her arms around his neck. 

"My Beth!" he answered, and slip- 
ping his arm around her waist, he 
kissed her rapturously. 

"I am so miserable," faltered Beth, 
and then she told him all that her aunt 
had said. 

"Why, it's the most preposterous 
thing that I ever heard of!" said Ed- 
gar, when she finished, and he laugh- 
ed gaily. "You marry my uncle!" 

"If I don't do it I'll lose all my mon- 
ey," sobbed Beth. 

"If you do do it, you'll lose me and 
a lifetime of happiness. It is my opin- 
ion that your aunt is laboring under a 
great misapprehension. I believe from 
expressions that my uncle has let slip 
in the last few days that it is she whom 
he desires to marry." 

"Do you think so?" 

"I am almost certain of it, and I 
know that he looks favorably on my 
suit for yon." 

"What shall we do?" 

"Is the garden gate open?" 

"Yes. Why?" 

"I'll tell you how we'll settle the 
matter irrevocably. We'll slip through 
the garden gate, go to Parson Jones, 
get married, and when we get back 
go in and introduce ourselves as Mr. 
and Mrs. Edgar Armstrong. " 

"But it is so sudden," faltered Beth, 
drawing back, "and so irregular." 

"You don't love me then?" 

"Yes I do." 

"Then you won't object. Even if 
matters should really exist as you 
think, and you should lose your money, 
we will not come to want, for 1 have a 
very comfortable property in my own 
richt, and a good income from niv pro- 
fession. Will you do as I wish? I 
have loved you for a long time, Beth. 
Do consent and make me a happy 
man." 

"I will," answered Beth. 

And then they walked towards the 
garden gate. 

Thev were gone half an hour, and 



when they returned tnere was a new 
light in Beth's eyes as she clung to her 
husband's arm, and he walked along 
very proudly. 

They entered the drawing-room by 
way of the hall door. 

The deacon and Miss Millicent were 
seated in about the same positions, and 
when Beth glanced at her aunt there 
was a look of conscious guilt in that 
lady's face. 

Edgar was the first to speak. 

"Uncle 'Riah," he said, "and Miss 
Devereux," bowing to both, and lead- 
ing forward Beth, "allow me to present 
to you my wife." 

"What!" gasped Miss Millicent as 
she jumped to her feet. 

"Edgar, my boy, bless you!" cried 
the deacon as he rushed forward and 
folded the young couple in his long 
arms. 

"Deacon Armstrong!" ejaculated 
Miss Millicent, and she raised her thin 
hands in horror. 

"D.ar Miss Millicent!" cried the 
deacon, and he released Edgar and 
Beth, and rushed towards the spinster. 
"Congratulate 'em! They've done a 
sensible thing. But young people will 
be young people, and we old people 
would do well to follow their example 
— eh, darling?" 

And he endeavored to put his arm 
around Miss Mfllicent's slim waist. 

"Sir!" cried the lady, starting back. 

"I mean just what I say, ".continued 
the deacon, recklessly, and he succeed- 
ed in getting his arm around her and 
drawing her towards him. "I've loved 
you ever since we were children to- 
gether." 

"Me?" gasped Millicent. 

"Yes, and I want you for a wife. 
You're the only woman I know that I'd 
ask to be my wife." 

"Oh, dear!" was Millicent's faint ar- 
ticulation, and she slipped through the 
deacon's arms into her easy chair. 

He knelt beside her, and Mr. and 
Mrs. Armstrong very discreetly glided 
from the room. When they returned 
an hour afterwards, the whole matter 
had been settled, and there were mu- 
tual explanations and congratulations. 

^ t mm 

An Anecdote of Jenny Lind. 

As an illustration of the constant 
anxiety of artists concerning their pow- 
ers, Mrs. Beeves tells how one prima 
donna refused to sit down at all on a 
day when she was to sing: "No, she 
would walk around the room, talking 
perhaps, singing perhaps, sometimes 
very busy with her needle and thread, 
but never sitting down the livelong day 
until the performance was all over. 
Why, I remember well enough one day 
how, on the morning of a performance, 
Jenny Lind (Mme. Goldschmidt) Mr. 
Reeves, Mr. Otto Goldschmidt, and 
myself, were in the room, and during 
the morning Jenny Lind and my hus- 
band were never still, passing one past 
the other, with music in hand, singing 
and practicing, and intent on the work 
before them. 'Why, Jenny,' said Mr. 
Goldschmidt, 'you must have sung 
those songs many times; surely there 
is no need of all this ' But remon- 
strance was in vain. 'You are a fine 



musician,' said Mme. ijoioscnmidi, in 
her quiet, decisive manner, to her hus- 
band, 'but Mr. Reeves and I are sing- 
ers and we know what is best for us. 
Leave us alone.' Suppose you had 
called to see Jenny L.nd on a day when 
she was singing. She would probably 
come into the room with a bundle- of 
music in her hand, put it on a chair 
and sit down upon it; talk away pleas- 
antly enough for a few minutes, turn 
to a passage in one of the pieces, and 
hum it over. Having satisfied herself 
of the correctness, she would replace 
it and sit down again as calmly as pos- 
sible and resume the conversation at 
the point it was broken off. — Pall Mail 
Budget. 

^W ■ ■»■ ' — 

I Want My Tail Again, 

If we. as Mr. Darwin says, from monkeys are 

descended, 
Dame Nature's touch 'aint done as much as 

science has pretended; 
And Faiher Time, I'll bet a dime, must 

"damn with faintest praise" 
Much that we c aim in shape of gain in these 

degenerate days, 
And e'er we rate our man's estate too high 

in history's scale, 
Let's wait and first investigate what loss 

i! doth entail; 
Let's also set why we should he so pleased 

with this our lot. 
And how much tain and how much pain we 

by the trade have got ; 
A.nd if I may I will essay, by aid of press and 

pen, 
To show you why, 0, science, I would like my 

tail again. 

With their rude monkish habits then their 

tailor bills were small;— 
The best authorities contend they had no 

bills at all— 
Their board was where boards first are found, 

upon their native trees. 
When all the race could race around and 

help themselves with ease, 
They had no bodices or boots to squeeze 

them out of shape, 
Their wine was all imported then directly 

from the grape. 
So far you'll see, it seems to me, they were 

ahead of men, 
So, dearest science, if you please, I want my 

tail again. 

In these, our "greater" later days, body and 
sou are bent 

To keep up health, appearances, and bills of 
tax and rent; 

Our manners wear not that repose that 
marked the frugal clan 

Who faced the heat, and sleet, and snows be- 
fore primeval man. 

That they had better morals, too, is plain 
enough to all, 

For, give a monkey half a chance, and he 
will never fall, 

While, on the other hand, we know that 
though his path may lie 

Below the humblest mortal's tread, he soon 
can climb as high. 

And all in all, both great and small, consid- 
ered first and last, 

I much prefer and wish there were the days 
that now are past. 

And, dearest science, unto you, before I drop 
my pen, 

I'll make this best and last request— I want 
my tail again. 

— F. S. Kyman. 



MADGE. 



It was a very poorly furnished room 
in a cottage home; a small cottage, one 
of many, all small, mean, and scantily 
furnished,and the "hands" lived there. 
This one was Morgan's cottage, and it 
was Jack Morgan himself and his sis- 
ter, Madge, who were seated at break- 
fast, lingering as was possible only on 
Sunday morning. 

She was a tall, well-formed, striking- 
ly handsome girl of nineteen, as she 
sat facing her brother, who was some 
five vears older: and uoon her face was 



an eager, troubled look, wnne he was 
sullen and downcast. 

Young as they were they had seen 
better days; been well educated up to 
three years previous to that June morn- 
ing, and then been thrown suddenly 
upon their own resources. 

Jack fought his way, sullen and re- 
sentful, making few friends, and seek- 
ing none. 

Madge was the braver of the two, 
meeting their reverses with quiet cour- 
age, and bringing energy, trust, and 
cheerfulness to the mean cottage home. 
Just one week had elapsed since an 
aunt from whom they had never hoped 
for aid, had left them each a hundred 
pounds, and Jack had resolved to try 
his fortune in Canada, while Madge 
put hers aside for a rainy day. 

"I'll stay here until you are sure of 
success, jack," she said, when he 
urged her to join him, "and keep a 
home for you in case that you should 
need one." 

"Do you call this hole a home?" he 
asked bitterly, and she only smiled and 
answered: 

••A shelter, then." 

But she was not smiling when she 
sat at the Sunday breakfast, eating lit- 
tle, brooding sadly, until suddenly she 
cried — 

"Jack, we must do something. Think 
what we owe Tom King." 

"Owe him! 1 believe we have paid 
him every farthing," said Jack sharply. 

"We paid him the money, I know; 
but we can never pay him what we owe 
him still." 

"Bah! Don't be so sentimental, 
Madge." 

"Common gratitude is not sentiment 
alone, Jack. Jack," she repeated, 
"can you forget who came to us in that 
sore need, paid doctor and butcher, and 
then buried our mother beside father 
in the cemetery?" 

"And do you forget," her brother re- 
plied, almost angrily, "how we worked 
and saved, starved and perished, until 
every shilling of the money was in Tom 
King's pocket again?" 

"Iknow! I know! But think how 
kind he was — how he helped you and 
me to get our situations in the mills, 
and how delicately he made the loans 
of money. And now — Oh, Jack, I must 
do something!" 

"What can you do? If Tom King 
chose to lose his money in speculating, 
how are you responsible?" 

"I am not, but, Jack, there is Aunt 
Kate's money." 

"All you have in the world." 

"No," she answered, "I have my 
wages." 

•'A noble fortune! Don't be a fool, 
Madge." 

But Madge was a fool in the sense he 
meant. All through the morning, 
while she put the house in order, 
while she dressed in her quiet mourn- 
ing for church, even through the ser- 
vice there, she was thinking of what 
she owed Tom King. 

When her mother, crushed by the 
death of her husband, unable to meet 
the change from comfort to poverty, 
sank down prostrated; when Jack, un- 
able to get work, was cursing fortune, 
Tom Kins' came, as their father's 



friend, and sept them irom starvation. 
Madge's heart glowed as she remem- 
bered how thoughtful he was about 
sparine: her trouble in every way. 

He was more than double her age, 
and a grave, reserved man, whom she 
regarded with the affectionate respect 
she would have given her father, but 
with that same reverence she loved him 
deeply. And when the whole town 
fcnew that Tom King lay in the New- 
town hospital, sick and penniless, the 
whole noble, grateful heart of Madge 
Morgan went out to him. 

Many stories reached her. He had 
made a fortune and lost it; he had in- 
vested in mines, and the mines had 
failed and ruined him; he had been en- 
gaged, according to the Newtown gos- 
sips, in a dozen different speculations, 
winning vast sums only to lose them. 
But one broad, indisputable fact re- 
mained, if all the rest were false; he 
was lying in the hospital sick from the 
excitement that had put the last stroke 
upon his ill luck. 

Dinner over, Madge put on her bon- 
net again. 

"I'm goino- over to the hospital, 
Jack," she said. 

Only a grunt answered her, but she 
would not be put off by Jack's sour 
looks, and went on her errand. 

Here, upon a low iron cot-bed, pale 
and emaciated, but evidently on the 
road to rocovery, Tom King lay when 
Madge Morgan came up to the ward 
with a nurse, her face so grave and 
tender that the strong will and pa- 
tient endurance of its usual expression 
were lost in the pure womanly sympa- 
thy that rested there. 

"My friend!" she said, taking the 
wasted hand extended to her, and Tom 
King wondered if ever two words held 
so much as those two. 

"Why, Madge," he said presently, 
looking into her eyes misty with tears, 
"do not feel so badly, I'm gaining ev- 
ery day. The doctor says he will have 
me on my feet in a week, and I'm go- 
ing abroad again." 

"Again! When you have been so 
unfortunate there?" 

"Eh? Oh, I see!" he said, with an 
odd look in his eyes; "you've been 
reading the Newtown Star. Unlucky, 
wasn't I?" 

"Yes. But, Tom — I came to tell you 
— " the words came slowly — -"that I 
have some money that — that is of no 
use to me. If it will start you again, 
I- — " 

"You want me to take it?" 

"You can borrow it," anxious not to 
hurt his pride, "and some day — when 
rou are rich — you can return it." 

"Yes! I seel Have you got it with 
you?'* 

"I thought I would bring it with 
me," she said, her face flushed with 
pleasure, "and here it is." 

He opened the white envelope and 
took it out, one note, just as the law- 
yer had sent it to her. Tom King laid 
it on the broad palm of his hand and 
stroked it tenderly. 

"All your wealth, Madge?" he ask- 

"Not while I have these," and she 
held up her hands. "I am so glad, 
thoue'h. that I have it." 



Jle lay very quiet, looKing steaaii/ 
at the note for some minutes; then he 
began to speak, his eyes still fixed on 
the money, his voice steady but monot- 
onous, as if he were reading a story 
there: 

"When I went away, nearly three 
years ago," he said, "I went to see if I 
could not shake myself free from a 
dream I had. I dreamed that I could 
win the love of a child, a mere slip of 
a girl, who was forced into a premature 
womanhood by trouble. She was ut- 
terly unconscious of my love, but I 
knew I could not hide it if I stayed be- 
side her. Out of her sight, far from 
the sound of her voice, the dream, in- 
stead of fading, became clearer, more 
vivid. Day and night I dreamed, but 
I worked as well. I put what money I 
had into investments that promised 
well — but there, I will not speak of 
that. Providence was merciful. I am 
alive, at least," he paused there, but a 
low, sweet voice took up the story. 

"And the dream will become real- 
ity," the voice said. "The child-wo- 
man did not read her own heart, nor 
understand why nothing in her life met 
or filled the longing there. Not until 
sharp sorrow came, and she heard of 
him she loved lying ill and in poverty 
and pain, did she understand that he 
took all the love she could ever know 
away with him." 

•'And now, Madge?" 

"It shall be as you say. I love you. 
I am young and strong, and I think I 
can be a help and not a burden to 
you." 

"Will you be my wife, Madge?" 

"Whenever you will." 

"Madge, did you think, my dear, 
that I was ruined? I am a rich man, 
Madge, but I mean to keep this," and 
his hand closed over the note. "You 
shall never have it again, Madge." 

"I am content," she answered. 

And even Jack was satisfied; some- 
thing of his sullen temper being lost 
when he once more found himself on 
the road to prosperity. 

— ■ ■ ■ 

The French Cook. 



The French cook, who is deemed the 
perfection of a culinary artist by the 
unfortunate uninitiated, is, after all, 
but a common mortal, with the same 
failings and weaknesses as her less 
celebrated sisters in other lands. Fa- 
miliarity breeds contempt, and cooks, 
like prophets, seem to be without hon- 
or in their own country. According to 
the leading French papers, the French 
cook is dishonest, untidy, and worse 
than all, she cannot cook. The juicy 
roast and the multitude of daiDty dish- 
es for which she was once justly cele- 
brated are now things of the past. It 
is only in provinces, at the hospitable 
houses of the priests and clergy, that 
the last specimens of the vanished race 
of efficient cooks are to be found. But 
take one of these modest and skillful 
artists "up to town," be patient with 
her even though she breaks your Saxon 
dinner plates, instruct her carefully, 
and after a twelvemonth, the stout, 
ruddy country maiden adorns her face 
with rice powder, wears high-heeled 
K-irtt.s and lace trimmed-bonnets. and 



degenerates to the level of the Parisian 
cuisiniere. If you gently hint that 
some improvement in her cookery 
would be a pleasant thing, she leaves 
you to enter your neighbor's service, 
where 5 francs de plus are offered. 
"Servantgalism," as the Americans say 
is much the same all the world over. 
— Pall Mall Gazette. 



Old John Ingmanson, of Sycamore, 
HI., used to hold Christine Nillson on 
his knee when she was a child in 
Sweden, and when he went out to sell 
his tinware, she went with him and 
sasisz to draw purchasers. 

Story of a Chicago Courtship, 

A bronze-haired son of Arizona, who 
had the appearance of having been toy- 
ing with the blizzards as they dance 
and skip around through the pine for- 
ests of the great Northwest, dropped 
into the beauty show in Chicago one 
day last week, where he fell a victim 
to the smiles of contestant known as 
"No. 6." She stood no show of taking 
the prize, but he didn't care for that. 
He constituted himself her prize pack- 
age, and as such cast himself at her 
feet with all the suddenness and fury 
of an Arizona zephyr. She said she 
couldn't leave her mother. 

"Don't want ye to; want her to go 
along," sighed the blizzard. 

He called on her that evening, and 
her seat at the beauty show was vacant 
the next day. His hair has been trim- 
med, the tailors have sized him up, and 
a half-dozen dressmakers are working 
themselves into headaches over an 
elaborate and substantial trousseau, be- 
cause he must be back home in time to 
get the spring wheat sowed before 
corn planting is on. — New Mexican Re- 
view. 

A Magnificent Mast. 



A magnificent mast has been sent 
from Verona to the agricultural de- 
partment of the Turin exhibition. The 
tree grew in the woods of Cadore, and 
five other majestic pines had to be 
hewn down before the one destined for 
the mast could be removed. When 
the lower branches had been cut off 
this fine tree-trunk was divided into 
two pieces, the bottom part measuring 
more than 120 feet, and the top part, 
still adorned with its green branches, 
18 feet. The weight of the tree, after 
being thus prepared, was 41 cwt. On ex- 
amining the base it was found that that 
part was 205 years old, while the sum- 
mit was only 83 years old. The mast 
was dragged from the forest to the sta- 
tion on two wagons, drawn by eight 
horses, and the whole of it took up 
seven railway trucks. Three days were 
employed in the transport by rail, as 
the special train could only travel by 
daylight, proceeding very slowly on 
account of the curves, and had to stop 
continually, not being able to pass 
another train. The mast is slender in 
comparison to its height, being 65 cen- 
timeters at the base and 15 at the sum- 
mit. The stem preserves an equal 
width up to the height of about 90 
feet, after which it diminishes rapidly. 
Including the expense of transport, the 
mast will cost more than £50. 



F 






L^° RY 0F CONGRESS 





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VOICE OF FASHION" 

A Magazine published for the especial benefit of those 
who use the 

National Garment Cutter, 



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embraces all the latest styles, with drafts showing how to cut, and 
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able writers upon the events of the day. Subscription $1.50 per 
year. 

— PUBLISHED BY — 

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645 West Lake Street, 

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS. 



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